The Past in the Present
by nelliesbones
Summary: Ever since Seeley Booth had first met Temperance Brennan, he had fantasized about her, had pictured her in random moments of his life. And even after they had gotten their happy ending, some fantasies remained... Spoilerfree, warm-hearted and M for a reason.
1. First an Idea

_I promised you some fluffy and smutty fun. Here it comes.  
_

_Story was previously known as "A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING", I renamed it somewhere around chapter 10.  
_

THE PAST IN THE PRESENT

I. First an Idea

The cake had been bunny-shaped and sugar-free, one precious candle in the middle of it. There had been balloons, there had been friends. Some very tall, others barely able to toddle. All in all, it had been a very successful first birthday party, Brennan mused with pride, as she put the remaining cake into plastic boxes and the boxes in the fridge.

One year ago, she had come home in the evening with her little girl in her arms; one year ago she had experienced the worst pain and the brightest joy in that damn stable. One year.

Adjusting to motherhood hadn't been easy, and Brennan knew that it had been her. Christine was an easygoing baby, Booth a wonderful father, but becoming a mother had opened some old wounds Brennan hadn't been very keen to deal with. One year later, most of them were healed, though, finally healed, and if it hadn't been for the moths apart, the past year would have been perfect, just perfect.

It still was, somehow, but... the three months on the run had been hard, professionally but most of all personally. Long days had been followed by dark nights, and they all had been saturated with the feeling of utmost helplessness, loneliness and, yes, guilt. Even after she had come back, the darkness had needed some time to vanish completely, and her chest still ached when she recalled Booth's haunted expression, the caution in his eyes. Barriers that hadn't been between them in a long time, barriers she had never wanted to see again.

She had done it her parents' way, but she had not abandoned her child. (No, you have abandoned him, Tempe...) And she had come back, come back as soon as possible. (I came back, I would always come back!)

And he had forgiven her; had probably done it long before Brennan herself had been able to.

Unbeknownst to her, Booth had come back downstairs, wrapping two arms around her from behind. She startled, but only briefly, before relaxing into the familiarity of his embrace.

"She went out like a light," he murmured while brushing Brennan's hair away, dropping a kiss onto her neck.

She smiled.

"That was quite an excellent party."

"It was. Our baby has gotten so big."

"30 inches."

A chuckle behind her.

"One year ago..."

Her hands found his on her belly, squeezing them.

"I know."

"Best year of my life. Well, minus a few months."

"I know..."

"That reminds me-"

One strong arm spun her around and before her surprised yelp had subsided, he had lifted her onto the kitchen counter, leaning in for a quick kiss.

"Stay put."

Her puzzled eyes followed him on his way to the living room, but some moments later he came back, a wrapped little something in his hand.

"What is that?"

He stepped between her thighs, and her feet dangled somewhere around his shins. Taking her hand, he placed the box onto her palm, grinning almost foolishly happy.

"Happy first birthday of our baby, Baby."

Her eyes widened.

"You have a present for me?"

"Yup."

"I didn't know that we were supposed to get presents for each other. I'm sorry, Booth."

He kissed her nose lovingly.

"You already gave me the best present ever."

"I assume you're talking about Christine, but she is hardly a gift and since your sperm was an important factor in the process of creating-"

"Bones... getting my stuff inside of you was a lot more fun than pressing the whole baby out. Nah, this is just for you."

Brennan didn't look overly convinced.

"There is no super-secret relationship rule about this, Bones, I promise. You didn't miss something. Seriously, it's just me having a gift for you."

She finally decided to believe him, and her eyes lit up, as she toyed with the little gift.

"What is it?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out."

Fairly certain that he didn't have X-rays in mind, Brennan unwrapped the box. His hands braced on her thighs, he watched her intently, and then she gasped, as she opened the lid. Swallowing once. Blinking twice.

The ring was beautiful, silver or white gold with an emerald stone embedded. The ring was... a ring! Her eyes flew to his.

"Is this-"

"Not an engagement ring," he cut her off.

The breath whooshed out of her lungs in a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.

"Nope, Bones, I already told you that you will be the one asking me. One day. This is just a ring. Because of our daughter. And because I love you. You're wearing your mother's ring. Bones, do me the honor and wear mine as well, will you?"

Warmth flooded her entire being, and she gave him the box, outstretching her hand.

"I'd love to."

He slipped the ring onto her finger and stepped closer between her thighs, pressing his mouth onto hers for a sweet kiss. Her hand, the one wearing the ring, came around his back, cupping his nape, and she parted her lips, caressing his tongue with hers, swallowing his soft moan. He smelled like baby powder, organic detergent and him, and his scent was as familiar as his taste, as familiar as the shape of his body so close to hers. As it had been for one year and forty weeks.

"I love my gift, thank you," she finally whispered, her lips still damp from his kiss, his breath on her face.

His fingers trailed down her spine, and he nuzzled her neck with his nose, enjoying the softness of her skin.

"You're very welcome, Bones."

One peck later, he lifted his head again, looking around.

"Do you need some help?"

"No, I'm done. The dishwasher will do the rest."

"In that case, what do you think about a glass of wine and making out on the couch?"

"I think it sounds very promising."

He grinned.

"I'll get the wine."

-BONES-

The taste of red wine mingled with the taste of her, and between kisses they shared stories, shared memories.

If, at the faraway end of his life, some kind of angel would ask him about the best thing on earth... to him, it was this. Having her in his life every hour of the day, walking down the path of time beside her, being her partner in every sense of the word.

Ever since Booth had first met Temperance Brennan, he had fantasized about her, had pictured her in random moments of his life. In his bed, hell yes, of course, but also at his breakfast table, next to a Christmas tree, with him in a grocery store... the list was long, and a finger poking his ribcage brought him back to reality.

"What were you thinking?"

He chuckled. The question would be a cliché, but his Bones didn't do clichés, and so it was just a question.

"About angels and the path of time."

A frown appeared on her face.

"Booth, sometimes you're a very strange man."

Laughter rumbled deep in his chest, and he pulled her halfway onto his lap, hugging her close.

"I was thinking that I used to have a lot of fantasies about you."

Her eyebrows arched up.

"Sexually motivated? That's okay, Booth, I thought about you as well while masturbating."

Unfortunately, he had chosen that moment to sip at his wine glass, and so her blunt confession was followed by some snorting and coughing on his side.

"You did?" he finally choked out, and she hummed in agreement, her fingers tracing his abs.

"Of course. You are a very attractive man."

"Just for the record, I had innocent fantasies as well, but let's go back to yours."

She settled into his arms with a smile.

"Well, I thought how of first time together might be. Especially after that talk in the elevator."

His palm stroking her back, he could almost smell the burning paper sheets again.

"Yeah, me too. I never thought it would be like it turned out to be."

"Me neither."

"You know, I felt kind of guilty, like taking advantage of a weak moment."

A soft kiss landed on his collarbone.

"From what I remember, I started it," she reassured him.

"I thought for a while that I should have stopped it. But I just couldn't. You were so warm, so alive, and I needed you so damn much."

"Thanks for not stopping. Rationally, I would have understood it, but..."

Her voice trailed off.

"One way or another, this would have happened, you know that, right?"

He could feel her smile once more.

"I know. If only that elevator had had walls."

"Bones!"

She shrugged in his arms and continued.

"If only you hadn't come back with Hannah."

He went rigid, but only for a moment. Those months couldn't hurt them anymore.

"If only you hadn't had too much Tequila," he jumped in.

"If only that arrest hadn't distracted Tony and Roxy. Watching you fight like that... I was so aroused," she admitted, and something deep down in his belly stirred.

"If only Sweets hadn't convinced me that being in love with you was a dysfunction of my brain. If only I hadn't listened to him."

An idea formed in her mind.

"Booth, this might sound crazy, but I'd like to suggest something. What do you think about reenacting the first times we could have had?"

He wrinkled his nose.

"Like role play, Bones?"

She pondered his question for a moment.

"Yes and no, since we wouldn't play roles but our former selves."

"Does our normal sex life already bore you?"

Covered by his playful tone was a hunch of something insecure, but the smile that curved up her lips was nothing but sincere.

"I believe the appropriate answer would be, 'You rock my world.'"

"Aw, Babe."

Ignoring the pet name, she met his kiss halfway, something hot unfurling between her legs.

"Let me think about it, okay? And, in the meantime, I can rock your world a little bit more."

He flipped her around in one swift move, and soon the throaty sound of her laughter was replaced by breathless kisses and moans.

As worlds were rocked.

To be continued.


	2. The Fate in the Beginning

_Wow, thanks for all the kind words! Writing for you totally rocks._

_Are you ready for some smutty fun?_

II. The Fate in the Beginning

Days went by as work and the ordinary joys of family life sucked them in, but a seed had been planted. Brennan couldn't stop thinking about her idea and, after realizing that she was fantasizing about fantasies and that this was a very unproductive thing, she asked her father to babysit Christine the next afternoon.

She was a quick thinker, had always been, but, this time, she took her time pondering possibilities, almost luxuriating in it. There were so many first times that could have happened between them, so many moments where something had crackled in the air. The tension had been there right from the start, and the scientist in her found it appropriate to begin... at the beginning.

Friday after Christine's birthday party, Booth got a text from his partner and since he would always follow her call, 4 pm that afternoon found him in front of the American University. The institution had always intimidated him somehow, but Brennan was already waiting on the stairs outside. Something between the pattern of her skirt and the coral red of her shirt rang a memory, but he couldn't quite put his fingers on it.

Parking the SUV, he flipped the keys into the air, catching them swiftly while approaching her with a smile.

"Heya. Why are we here? Something case-related?"

"Heya right back. No, we're still stuck. Hodgins is running his tests."

She offered him his cheek, and he brushed his lips over her smooth skin.

"Alright. Uh?"

The question was still in his eyes, and she linked arms with her partner while nudging him towards the entrance.

"We're here to attend a lecture."

He stopped instantly.

"A lecture?" he croaked, but she just nodded.

"On defleshing techniques."

"Uh... why don't we just go home and you tell me what I have to know?"

Tilting her head, she looked at him with calm eyes, but he could swear that he could see the hint of a blush covering her neck. Interesting.

"You don't have to listen, but we have to be here."

Interesting.

One gentle tug later, his feet decided to follow her, and, finally, upon entering the lecture hall, something clicked. His head flung around, taking in her clothes anew, taking in their surroundings.

"This is where we first met," he whispered, and she ushered him towards two seats in the empty last row.

"That's correct."

"And you're wearing what you were wearing that day."

A smile played around her lips.

"You're very attentive."

A squint that actually looked like a squint appeared on the podium, beginning his lecture in an annoyingly nasal voice. Next to him, a decomposing body was bubbling in some kind of solution.

"That guy looks dull."

"He was one of my PhD students. But I have to agree, he is quite dull."

With a frown, he tried to listen to the boring scientist, tried to make sense of it, and then he remembered their conversation from last week, and, suddenly, he knew why they were here. His mouth went dry. Lowering his hand to her knee, oh so slowly, he turned around, his lips grazing her auricle, as he whispered, "Do you believe in fate?"

She shuddered, as she met his eyes, and he could see the spark in her bright blue orbs, a spark that would always, always ignite his own, had done so even back then. He knew her answer before she said it.

"Absolutely not. It's ludicrous."

"Well, what do you believe in, Ms. Brennan?" he murmured and she picked up the challenge it was.

"It's _Doctor_ Brennan. I believe in science and evolution."

The thumb on her knee started to move, caressing the hem of her skirt. The material was exquisite and stiff under his fingertip.

"Well, I do believe in fate."

"Why?"

Already her voice had gotten that breathless quality he loved so much.

"Why? I'll tell you why. Because it led me right here."

She shook her head, her curls swaying gently.

"Dr. Saroyan gave you my name. Sent you here."

The thumb stilled.

"You have to look at the bigger picture to understand fate."

"I look at details."

"Fate saved me a hundred times over. What has science ever done for you?"

"The very same."

"So you're a believer."

It wasn't really a question, and his cocky smile caused her to straighten her back.

"I believe in something reasonable."

"Fate is reasonable."

"Not tangible."

"Some decades ago, the concept of DNA wasn't tangible."

"Point taken. Then let's wait a few more decades until the existence of fate has been proven and we can repeat this conversation. In the light of new evidence, I might adjust my opinion."

"You are infuriating."

"As are you."

In one bold move, his hand slipped under her skirt, resting on her smooth thigh right above the lace-trimmed hem of her stocking. Her tiny gasp sent shivers down his spine, but that was nothing compared to the shock of electricity that rushed through his whole body as, in an answer to his touch, her fingers curled around his thigh.

"Bones," he hissed, and she chuckled silently.

"So you can dish out, but you cannot take it?"

Turning around, he captured her neck with one strong hand, holding her close to his face while he let his nose run over her jawline, inhaling deeply. His voice was dark and raspy, as he answered.

"Oh, believe me, I can take it."

Instead of backing away, she tilted her head, exposing her neck to him. Underneath her pale skin, he could see the pounding of her pulse. For a moment, he just stared at her, taking in the woman she had been and the woman she was now; cherishing the changes, cherishing the things that hadn't changed at all.

On the podium, the rotten corpse had transformed into a slime-covered skeleton, and an unpleasant odor was filling the air.

"You were lecturing about the same thing back then, right?"

"Almost. I presented different techniques, and I believe that mine were a lot more efficient and less disgusting."

He chuckled.

"Of course they were."

Another moment of silence. The stink soaring out of the glass tank on the podium got nearly unbearable, and Booth noticed that several students were desperately covering their noses and mouths.

"You were hot," he finally whispered.

"I know."

"And so very modest."

"I don't believe in false modesty. I have to admit that you piqued my interest right from the very first moment. You were very handsome."

"There was attraction."

"It was."

"I wanted to get to know you. To figure you out. And I wanted to have my way with you. Get under your composed attire. You were... something."

"I still remember the warmth of your hand as you shook mine. You have fairly big hands. I wanted to know what they are capable of."

"Come on. Let's get away from this smell."

Grabbing her hand, he dragged her outside, and she followed willingly. Since he had no idea where to go, she took the lead as soon as they reached the hallway, guiding him to a packed little store room and shoving him inside.

The windowless room smelled like old cardboard and cleanser, and in the darkness, she turned to him.

"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institution."

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI. I... I'm gonna fall in love with you."

"Yes. But not now, not today."

"No, today I just wanna figure you out. Get under your skin."

Her palms landed flat on his chest, neither pushing nor pulling him.

"Figure me out, then."

Grabbing one thigh, he lifted her leg, wrapping it around his hip, and she gasped both at the shifted center of gravity and at the sudden intimate contact. His warm palm cupped the back of her thigh, rough skin running over smooth skin, and he followed the curve of her leg until he reached the lace of her panties, until he slid underneath the flimsy material to cup the roundness of her ass.

She gasped in surprise and her pelvis tilted forward, pressing her mound deeper into his midsection. Clutching his shoulders, she steadied herself, and, after regaining some composure, she rocked deliberately into him, causing him to groan.

"I already know that you will drive me crazy," he panted.

Her face fell forward, lips parting over his throat.

"That was never my intention. But I find that I like it," she said before pressing open-mouthed kisses onto his sensitive skin.

The hand cupping her moved even further, gentle pressure digging into her flesh, and then he spread his fingers, and just the tips of them brushed her silky entrance from behind. Wetness was gathering between her legs, and, lifting her thigh just a few inches higher, she longed for his touch, his real touch, not this feather-light tease.

"That's what you wanted to do to me back then?"

Her voice was barely a whisper in the breathless room, and he lowered his head onto her shoulder.

"Dunno. I wanted to do _something_."

Grinding against him, she increased the friction between them, could feel him hardening in response.

"The only question was... would you let me or slap me?"

The fingers between her legs resumed their light caress, and her belly tightened in anticipation.

"Maybe both... At first, I was confused by my reaction to you. But after... after I decided to help you, I wanted to help you."

"And you couldn't work with me and sleep with me..."

"You were... _are_ too intense. I have to admit that your commitment scared me."

"That's why you left in that cab?"

"Hm-hmm."

"But you were curious."

"Curious...?"

"How it could be."

And, without warning, two of his fingers stroked into her damp heat, deep and self-assured. A muffled moan escaped her lips, and he could feel her silken walls fluttering around him in welcome. A rush of wetness dampened her panties, and he could smell her. Inhaling a deep breath, Booth registered her scent, the one he knew now, the one he didn't know back then.

"I can smell you," he whispered, and she groaned almost feline-like.

"It heightens your arousal, doesn't it?"

Her hands tugged at his tie, nimble fingers undoing the first few buttons of his shirt, before her teeth sank into the sensitive flesh of his shoulder. He cursed sharply, as she marked him, the fingers inside of her thrusting without rhythm for a few seconds. Soothing the bite with her tongue, she licked his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his flesh, reveling in his taste.

"_You_ heighten my arousal."

"How much do you want me?" she taunted, and his slick fingers slipped out of her, sliding over her hypersensitive bundle of nerves. Her whole body jerked in his arms. Unseen by her, his mouth curved up in a smile.

"How much do _you_ want _me_?" he threw her words back at her.

"Cocky bastard."

He laughed out roughly, and then his mouth was on hers for the first time that afternoon. Without further delay, lips parted, tongues sweeping over each other. It was a battle that nobody could win, that nobody really wanted to win, and, bringing both hands to her face, he held her close to him in a sudden display of tenderness.

Her almost numb leg unwrapped itself from his hip, her foot hitting the ground, the damp fabric of her panties clinging between her thighs.

Using her strength and the moment of surprise, she flipped them around until his back hit the wall with a soft thud, her fingers flying to his pants and unzipping them within the blink of an eye. He groaned into her mouth, and then he was in her hands, hot and hard, and she was caressing him as if it was the first time. Alternating between squeezing and pumping, she had him on the brink of something within a few heartbeats, and he moaned almost helplessly.

"Bones..."

"I'd like to repeat my question. How much do you want me?"

"Badly. Oh, badly."

"What exactly do you want?"

"You. _Inside_."

His voice was rough, saturated with need, but she didn't want to give in. Not yet. She wanted to know why she reacted to him so strongly, wanted to study his reaction to her.

"Can you feel my hands around you? Can you imagine how it will feel when you're deep inside of me?"

"Yes," he panted," oh yes. But... I don't want to imagine."

His last words surprised her with sudden steadiness, and then she was spun around in the darkness, and, suddenly, it was her back that was pressed against the hard surface of the door. One flying hand rubbed over her body, from her cleavage over her aching breasts and down to her belly... and even further down. Then one hand was back between her legs, pushing her panties aside, and the other one gripped his own erection, guiding it to her warm flesh. She moaned, as the plump head of him touched her entrance, her head hitting the door.

"Allow me."

"Yes, take me, do it," she whimpered, opening her thighs as wide as possible.

Bending his knees, just a little, he aligned himself to her, and, with a deep breath, he pushed into her. As if for the first time...

Thickness, delicious thickness stretching her, rubbing her from the inside in the most pleasant way.

Heat, molten heat surrounding him, gripping him like a tailor-made glove.

Her arms hooked around his neck, and, supporting her weight with his palms, he lifted her up, burying himself as deep as ever possible in her pliant body.

"Ohhh..."

It was a mutual sigh, a mutual gasp.

"I wish I could see you," he finally murmured against her skin. "The color of your eyes. The flush of your skin."

Part of her wanted to remind him that he couldn't have known that back then, but, somehow, she knew that this was just such a Booth thing to say and that he would have wished it even if it had really been their first time. Shifting her head, she pressed her lips to his neck.

"Feel me instead," she whispered, caressing him with a squeeze of her inner muscles.

He shuddered all around her and sighed.

"Yes."

His hands held her buttocks, as he withdrew from her almost all the way before pushing back... again and again. She met his strokes with burning fire that started low in her belly but was soon consuming every part of her.

"Fate, Baby," he grunted, as he thrust into her, but she shook her head even as pleasure clouded her brain.

"No, chemistry."

"I _knew_ that we would be so good together."

"Pheromones. Attraction. Biological urges," she counted, but he silenced her with a hard kiss, a kiss that made her dizzy from the inside out, left her snapping for air as he released her.

In a gesture born out of utmost tenderness, he pressed his rough cheek against her soft one, and something in her body that was so much more than simple desire reacted to him.

"Tell me you don't feel it, then," he murmured gently, and she groaned almost desperately, failing at her own fantasy.

"I... Booth... I cannot pretend that I'm not in love with you. Not anymore."

His lips found hers anew, slower this time.

"And that is fate, Bones."

"No, it's just because it isn't really our first time together..."

"This was bound to happen sooner or later. I believe, strongly believe that no way in hell we just could have had a quickie in a store room. Not even back then."

Rotating his hips, he thrust into her from a different angle, using his intimate knowledge of her to render her speechless.

"Not fair," she mumbled weekly, her sweaty brow pressing into his wrinkled dress shirt.

"Come for me," he encouraged her, nudging himself even deeper between her thighs. "I'm the hot FBI guy that annoys you so much, that won't stop talking and challenging you."

"Booth! Booth..."

"You're not a cold scientist, show me your fire."

Letting go of a muffled cry, she came apart in his arms, shaking without rhythm as a mighty wave of white light flooded her, and, on the wings of her release, she could hear his name for her, could feel him quaking with her.

And then it went dark.

-BONES-

Fifteen minutes later, back in the SUV, his legs were still trembling somehow, little aftershocks rippling through his body every now and then. Next to him in the passenger seat, his partner had curled up like a sated kitten, her face angelic, her eyes closed. She smelled like sex and him, and his eyes flickered to her every few seconds.

She still wore the clothes from so many years ago, but she looked like his Bones, the woman he went to bed with every night.

His mouth opened and closed again.

"That was... interesting."

She giggled very uncharacteristically, and her eyes snapped open, bright blue dazzling him.

"Interesting?"

"Do you really think we should have had sex the first time we met?"

"Should? No. Could? Hmm..."

He grinned.

"Bones, Bones."

"We should do this again sometime."

He wiggled his head, more open to her suggestion than ever before.

"Yeah, but next time it'll be my fantasy."

She looked at him with sudden interest.

"You already have something in mind?"

"Maybe."

"You're such a tease."

"And you love me for it."

She sank back in her seat.

"Yes, I do. Oh, Booth, stop."

"Stop? What? Why?"

"The grocery store. We need diapers and juice."

His mouth fell open.

"Diapers and juice? Now?"

She shrugged.

"It's convenient since we're already here. But, Booth, you have to go and get it."

"Me? I'm still a little bit-"

"I had to remove my underwear, it was soaked."

He swallowed hard beside her.

"You're naked underneath your skirt?"

"Hmm, that's correct."

Rubbing his face with one palm, he turned right onto the parking lot.

"You're gonna kill me one day."

Stopping the car, he turned towards her, stealing another kiss, one that tasted like satisfaction and more.

"Don't wanna kill you," she murmured drowsily, her eyes dropping shut again. "Need you."

He watched her for one breathless moment, blinking once, twice, adding the fantasy to the reality.

Then he went to get some diapers. And juice.

Because their life wasn't a fantasy anymore.

It was better.

To be continued.

_How are you feeling?_


	3. The Ship in the Harbor

_Are you ready for some serious fluff? _

_I recommend "The Boneless Bride in the River" for this one._

III. The Ship in the Harbor

"No, Christine, the enamel bowl is the best drum."

Taking the spoon from his little sister, Parker hit said bowl, and the girl clapped her hands in delight at the loud noise. To prove what he just told her, the boy hit the plastic bowl in front of him and then the enamel bowl once more.

"See?"

Outstretching impatient hands, Christine reached for the spoon, and Parker gave it to her, watching contently as she hit the right bowl.

Entering the kitchen, Booth stepped over his children, aiming for the coffee pot.

"Thanks a lot Parks, it's not as if she cannot find out how to be as loud as possible on her own."

Parker shrugged.

"As her brother, I have to show her the good stuff."

"Can't you show her the silent good stuff?"

"Dad, there is no silent good stuff."

Brennan rushed into the kitchen, buttoning her blouse while walking.

"We're running late."

"Jeez, really? I hadn't noticed."

She rolled her eyes, but added a playful wink.

"Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

Her hand closed around the mug, her new ring, his ring, sparkling in the morning sunlight. On the floor, Christine hit the bowl anew, adding some squeaks to her makeshift song.

"She is fairly musical," Brennan stated while sipping her coffee.

Her partner groaned, but could barely hide his pride.

"That's one way to look at it."

"Next time, I'll bring my old flute for her," Parker jumped in, and Brennan smiled.

"She will suck and gnaw at it with delight."

Reaching for his toast, Parker regarded his sister. She had stopped hitting the bowl, and, the spoon in her mouth, she looked up at him with bright eyes.

"On second thought, maybe we should focus on drumming for a start," he finally added.

"A flute is quite a good instrument for a child, though."

"Yes, because it's _loud_, Bones. You're ready, Parker?"

"Yup."

"Okay. School for you," he pointed at his son, "daycare for you," a nod towards his daughter, "lab for you," a smile for Brennan, "and office for me. Your mom will wait for you this afternoon, Buddy, and Angela will pick up Christine later."

Brennan looked at him with a frown.

"Angela? Why?"

"Because we have plans tonight."

"Plans?"

"Yeah."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Nope."

"Okay..."

She stretched the word, ogling him curiously, and, eventually, Booth gave in with a sigh.

"Fine. Remember this... _thing_ we did two weeks ago?"

A lecture hall. A store room. A trip down memory lane. Her cheeks flushed.

"Yes..."

"Well, I have something planned for tonight. You'll get my instructions later."

"Instructions?"

He winked at her.

"Booth?" Her voice turned to a whisper. "What should I wear?"

"Whatever you want will be fine."

"Eek, you're gross. And I cannot hear you," Parker interrupted, and Booth ruffled his son's hair, even though the boy was almost too grown-up for it.

"We're not gross. We're super-cool adults and parents, alright?"

Parker chuckled.

"Sure."

"Grab your bag, we're leaving."

A kiss for Brennan, one for Christine.

"Later Bones?"

"Sure. I'll see you."

Later...

-BONES-

His instructions came around lunch-time in the form of a little plastic ship and a simple card saying, "Meet me at the pier. 6 pm."

Instantly, her mind provided her with a memory – another ship, a different day – and she didn't even have to ask which pier he was talking about.

"Oh, Booth..."

She hadn't stayed for him, but she hadn't been able to leave because of him. How could she sail into the sunset if Booth wouldn't be there to look at it with her? She hadn't seen it so clearly back then, and she had liked Sully, truly liked him, but... he hadn't been Booth. Nobody could ever be Booth.

'No bones, no Bones', she had once said. Maybe, 'No Booth, no Bones,' would have been correct as well.

The hours refused to pass, and the prospect of the evening distracted her more than she liked it. How had she been six years ago? How had he been?

Finally, the hands of time said five to six, she was approaching the pier. She hadn't come here again after biding Sully farewell, but walking down the planks, she felt a shadow of her former self beside her. Then there was Booth, his big frame as solid as a rock next to the boats. She knew that her decision to stay had been the right one, hadn't even thought about it in years, but, in that very moment, she felt the rightness like a mighty rush once again. And young Brennan was smiling at her, waving goodbye.

Taking a deep breath, she stopped right in front of her partner, tilting her head, blinking against the sun.

"Here I am," she simply said, and, lifting one arm, he pulled her into a half-hug; like he would have hugged her all those years ago, like he maybe even had, if she recalled her memory correctly.

"So... you remember?"

"Of course I do."

"Right... he was important."

"He was."

"I never told you how glad I was that you stayed. That you didn't follow your heart."

Turning her head, she looked up at him, searching his gaze.

"You're mistaken, Booth. I did follow my heart. Logically, I knew that I should go, that Sully was right. Angela encouraged me, even you told me so. But I couldn't, I just couldn't."

"Bones... I'm sorry for lying."

"Lying?"

He nodded slowly.

"Saying you should go with him... that was bullshit. And I was so scared that, for a change, you might actually listen to me."

"'Everything happens eventually.' You said that to me."

"And I was right."

"Why were you here that day?"

He sighed deeply, his gaze roaming over the glistening water.

"To be your friend. Offer you a strong shoulder. But... also to make sure that you wouldn't change your mind. And to show _him_ that _I_ was the one keeping you. I'm not very proud of the latter, by the way. Sully was a nice guy. Silly and stupid, but nice."

Her head fell onto his shoulder, his fingers drawing patterns on the small of her back.

"I'm glad that you came. I was really sad that morning."

Tilting his head, he rubbed the crown of her hair with his cheek. The waves in front of them were rushing soothingly, dark blue freckles dancing on the surface of the water – the kind of blue one could sometimes find in her eyes. Taking one moment, he just held her in the crook of his arm, praying his silent thank-you once again.

"Traditionally, I should buy you breakfast now. But it's a little bit late and we already did that back then. Also... there's this one thing I'd like to do."

Lifting her head, she gave him a curious smile.

"What is it?"

"You know... I was kind of jealous of our Sully boy. He knew you in ways I did not."

"You know me better."

"Rationally, I know that. Still... I want to make love to you on a boat. Just one time. To draw level, to get it out of my system, you know?"

"And you want me to give in to this alpha male fantasy of yours?"

Something insecure flickered in his eyes.

"Uh... yes?"

She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Okay. Which one is it?"

He nodded towards the boat he had rented.

"This one."

Taking his hand, she led him towards the boat, but before they stepped on board, she turned around one more time, raising her left eyebrow.

"Booth? To draw level, you'd have to have sex with me more than just once."

His stomach did a quick somersault, but he covered it with a self-assured smile.

"I can do that."

"I know you can."

-BONES-

The boat was nice, a little bit smaller than Sully's, but Brennan had never really cared about boats in the first place, so it was just a boat. A nice one. Gesturing in the direction of the cabin, she turned to Booth.

"You wanna go downstairs?"

"Nah, not yet. Let's take a seat first." He pointed towards some pillows and a blanket on the deck. "I even have champagne," he added proudly.

She laughed softly.

"Booth, you don't really have to seduce me, you know that, right?"

Reaching for her hand, he caressed her fingers with his thumb.

"But I want to."

Taking a seat on the checkered blanket, he tugged at her until she was sitting beside him, cross-legged and smiling. The wind was tousling her hair, and she looked younger than this morning and oh so gorgeous. Lifting his hand, he pushed one dancing curl away, tucking it behind her ear.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered in awe, and sudden shyness was tightening her chest.

"Booth..."

"No, you are. Today, back then, always. I probably should have told you so every now and then."

Clearing his throat, he reached for the champagne, uncorking it, filling two glasses. Handing one to her. She accepted it with a thank-you, and he was amazed how much it suited her, the boat, the wind, the sunshine, the exquisite drink. She wasn't made for murder and mayhem, she was way too elegant, way too special. Maybe she should have gone with Sully after all, maybe... His mind clouded for a moment, but then her cool hand was cupping his cheek.

"Staying was right. Leaving would have been wrong. I'm happy now, Booth, happy."

Blinking once, he found back into the moment, leaning into her palm with honest gratitude.

"Sorry," he murmured, and her fingertips caressed his skin.

"Don't ever doubt that this is what I want. You. The life we have."

Unable to speak for a moment, he raised his drink, chinking glasses. The champagne fizzed on his tongue, bubbling down his throat, and when he leaned in for a kiss, he could taste it on her warm lips as well.

"Did you ever regret it?" he finally asked. "Not going?"

She shook her head with a smile.

"No, never. My dad showed up, you were there... I kind of forgot it. He sent me a postcard once. I'm still grateful, though."

"Grateful?"

"Yes. Sully was the first man who was really nice to me in that kind of way. He made an effort to reach me. I... I needed that."

Booth grumbled beside her.

"I'm still jealous, just a little bit, you know?"

Brennan wiggled her head.

"How do I put it best...?"

"Why don't you try the grand romantic gesture for a change?"

"Hmm... Sully, he was a wave. You're the ocean, Booth. Every wave, every depth, every boat, every harbor which has ever existed."

Turning her head, she looked at him.

"Romantic enough?"

He swallowed hard, his hand aiming for her nape, pulling her towards him. Fingers tunneled in her silky hair, and his mouth slanted down on hers, warm and soft and firm. With a sigh, her lips parted, inviting him in, and his tongue met hers like he had always wanted to kiss her. Stroking and licking, nibbling and soothing. The setting sun was warming her from the outside, but he was warming her from the inside; her body and so much more.

Sometime during the kiss they slid down on the blanket, and he was lying half on top of her, his weight anchoring her in the most comfortable way ever. Her hands were raking through his thick hair, tracing his spine, clasping his strong upper arms; touching everywhere at the same time until he was consumed by one single caress that was her.

"Bones," he murmured between kisses; and again, "Bones."

She sighed into his mouth, the sound humming on his tongue, and, pushing his hands under her shoulder blades, he rolled them around until she was sprawled over him, his arms cradling her close to his chest.

"You're mine," he hissed, his voice dark with possessiveness, and she bit his bottom lip lightly.

"Don't push it."

"You're mine," he repeated, and she sank back into his kiss with a groan, drinking from him, falling into him.

Already the sun had begun its descent, decorating the sky with puffy clouds of pink. In the sunset light, her hair shimmered almost chestnut red, but he couldn't see it, could only feel her. It was the wind that finally got their attention, a sharp gust of March, and, above him, she shivered.

He run his palms along her covered arms.

"Cold?"

"A little."

Taking a shuddered breath, he kissed her once more, softly, before bringing himself into a sitting position, shifting her in his arms until her back was supported by his chest. Pulling at the blanket they were resting upon, he tried to wrap it around their bodies as tight as possible, and she snuggled into his embrace.

Lowering his head, he dropped a kiss into her hair.

"Why don't we have some more champagne and watch the sunset before heading downstairs?"

She nodded.

"I'd like that."

-BONES-

Watching a sunset on a clear day is made of win. Watching that sunset on a boat with the woman you love, the woman you almost lost in your arms is made of win win win. Somewhere in the not so faraway distance a boot was tooting, as if greeting the moon that was hanging pale and awaiting on the purple sky.

Brennan was warm and relaxed under the cocoon of their blanket, not really thinking about a long gone past, but rather floating in the moment. Booth's calm hands were folded over her belly, and, with every breath he took, her own body was rippling as well, as gently as the water surrounding them.

Then it was dark.

She turned around in his arms.

"Shall we?"

"We shall. You know, Bones, I would carry you downstairs, but the boat is a little bit wobbly, so..."

She chuckled.

"I don't know how much more romance I can take. Let's just walk."

Taking the champagne bottle, taking her hand, he guided her towards the tiny cabin, walking down the few stairs in front of her.

"Mind your head."

"I've been on a boat before, Booth."

He stilled, but only briefly, and she bit her tongue.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. After all, that's why we're here."

Spinning around, he pulled her towards him, turning them until they fell onto the small bed as a tangle of limbs, the bottle hitting the ground in the process. Taking advantage of her surprise, he buried her underneath his body.

"Booth!"

Lowering his head, he sucked her neck, evoking a sharp gasp.

"Did you scream for him? Come for him?" he asked in a somewhat dark voice, but Brennan had always been honest, and so she nodded.

"Yes."

Teeth sank into her skin, and she knew that, later, she would find his mark on her.

"Give me something, Bones, something," he pleaded, and she wrapped her arms around him, her mind traveling back in time.

"I... When I was coming... right before... I always closed my eyes."

Lips were soothing her neck.

"Thank you."

Then he was kissing her, full kisses that were stirring her up, that left no corner to hide... not that she wanted to hide in the first place, and with the kisses came the caresses. Fingers unbuttoning her blouse, peeling her out of the garment; hands covering her bra-clad breasts, kneading them, making them ache.

The bra was midnight blue, but he had already known that, he had seen her choosing it that very morning. In their home. Their home! A smile played around his lips, as he opened the clasp, exposing her further to his gaze.

"You're _so_ mine," he couldn't help but utter again, and, this time, she didn't even try to fight it. It might be an archaic concept and impossible on top of that, but, yes, in some way, she was his. Had been for a very long time.

Then she forgot to think altogether because his rough tongue was running over her sensitive nipple, and, arching her back, she pushed herself further into his mouth, her hands flying to his head.

"Booth..."

He hummed against her flesh, focusing his attention on her other breast after a few delicious moments, alternating between licking and sucking. Bringing his hand into play, he cupped her abandoned breast, rolling the taut tip between two fingers, gentle and rough at the same time.

"Oh yes," she breathed, and he sucked just a little bit harder, causing her to wriggle underneath him.

"Too much?"

"Yes. No..."

He smiled, burying his face in her cleavage, inhaling deeply. Her heart was beating wildly under his cheek, and he pressed one gentle kiss between her breasts, just because.

A few calming breaths later, she was tugging at he sweater, and together they pulled it over his head. In the dim light of the cabin, he was towering above her like some kind of Greek statue, only better. Warmer. Alive. Muscles were playing under his firm skin, and she traced their contours with her fingers, admiring, once again, his power.

An old kind of power. A good kind of power.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, and he groaned.

"Men are not beautiful."

"No, _men_ are not. _You_ are."

Lowering himself, he covered her with his naked chest, and want coursed through her body at the skin-to-skin contact. She was neither a small nor a weak woman, but with him, she felt precious, delicate even.

"Do you think we could speedup a little bit?" she finally asked breathlessly, and he laughed out.

"In a hurry?"

"Yes."

Her voice was rough with sincerity and need, and his mouth went dry as reason rushed southwards, centering in his pants. His way too tight pants.

"Just because you're asking so nicely," he taunted, his fingers already working on the buttons of her jeans.

She lost no time repaying the favor, and, soon, both of them had managed to wiggle out of their pants, close to each other in just their underwear... close to each other in nothing but skin and heat some hasty moments later.

Spreading her thighs, she embraced him on top of her, but he stilled one more time.

"Tonight," he breathed heavily, his eyes boring into hers. "Tonight I'm gonna lick you and suck you. I'm gonna make you scream and come again and again. You get that?"

She nodded wildly, completely in agreement with his plan.

"Maybe you can even have your way with me once or twice. But first... first _this_."

And with his last words, he thrust into her, joining them in one long stroke.

Her head fell back on a moan.

"Yessss."

Above her, he took a deep breath, adjusting to the heavenly feeling of being inside of her. At first, it was just one overwhelming rush of warmth, but, after a few racing heartbeats, he could feel the details. The smoothness of her calves brushing against his. Her hands pressing into the small of his back. Her breath tickling his ear. The silken heat of her engulfing him so intimately, so damn intimately.

And, suddenly, he knew that she could never have had this with someone else. Because... they were them, and the rest was invalid.

Taking her lovely face in both hands, he began to rock, slowly at first, but soon she encouraged him to move faster, to go deeper. He was stroking her or she was stroking him... it didn't really matter because it was just so perfect, such a wonderful sensation, and it was them, it was them together creating it.

"We're living a wide life," he murmured, and her eyes never left his, as she accepted everything he had to give.

"The best," she answered, lifting her head to meet his lips, and he kissed her and stroked her and kissed her once more.

Eventually, his body was tightening, submitting to the intensity of their union.

"Bones, Bones," he chanted, shivers starting low in his spine, and, with a sudden outcry, her head hit the pillows and her eyes darkened... darkened and brightened at the same time, as her body quivered beneath him, pushing him over the edge with her.

And he was falling... into her eyes, into her body... plain into her. But upon recovering his senses, he was neither lost nor found. He was just... there. And she was there with him.

Breathing in existence.

-BONES-

He made love to her all night long. And she never closed her eyes.

Not once.

Around them, the waves were lapping against the boat.

To be continued.

_Happy weekend!_


	4. The Find in the Museum

_Thanks to my dear twitter ladies for some live grammar support! You know who I mean :-)_

_And thanks to all of you for your kind words!  
_

IV. The Find in the Museum

"Bones? Hey Bones?"

Turning around the corner, Booth was greeted by yet another empty room. Granted, it was a sunny day, but usually the lab wasn't that deserted on a Friday afternoon. Fishing for his cell, he hit speed dial. She answered on the second ring.

"Bones, are we playing hide and seek?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Where are you? First you make me come here, then I cannot find you."

"I'm in the Egyptian exhibition. Take the elevator to the second floor and follow the signs."

"You call me away from work to play with some mummies?"

"You were very busy avoiding paperwork and playing 'Mad Birds'."

"Angry Birds."

He could almost hear her triumphant smile.

"Damn it." And then, "I'm coming."

He took the stairs instead of the elevator and, a few minutes later, he was greeted by a clean kind of dust. It smelled old here, very old, and the displayed sarcophagi and statues gave him the creeps. His footsteps echoed in the vast hall, louder than they should even be. As far as he could see, the exhibition was currently closed for the public, and in the dim light, the artifacts cast spooky shadows on floor and walls. Shadows that were moving somehow...

"Bones?" he croaked, and, just in case, he pulled his gun out of the holster.

Behind him, he could hear her stern voice.

"You wanna shoot Tentkhonsu's coffin?"

He turned around with a dignified expression on his face, holstering the gun.

"Of course not. But this is the stuff horror movies are made out of, okay?"

She turned on her heels and disappeared around one corner.

"You watch too much TV."

His feet hurried to follow her.

"Bones? Bones! What are we doing here? You lured me to this chamber of horrors for a reason?"

"I _always_ do things for a reason."

Finally, he could see that she had entered a brightly lit room with a lot of boxes. No creepy mummies around, thank you very much, but then his eyes registered her attire, and he frowned. She was wearing a gray coat he had never seen before. It ended right above her knees, emphasizing her long legs, clad in stockings which led to sinfully high heels, but her face, her face...

"Why are you wearing glasses?"

"All the better to squint with."

Huh?

"And... your hair...?"

He regarded the prim bun with a puzzled expression on his face, but, turning around, she busied herself with the open box on the table.

"I thought you could help me to catalog some new exhibits."

"Help you?"

Taking three long strides, he crossed the distance to her, one tentative hand touching her neck.

"Bones...?"

His voice was a soft question, and, unseen by him, she hid her smile.

"Everything okay? You're strange somehow."

She bent over the table to examine a golden cat figurine, the roundness of her buttocks brushing against him, and he sucked in a breath. Had she done that on purpose? One gentle shift later, he was sure that she had, and, stepping even closer, he leaned over her shoulder as if to look at the artifact in her hands, pressing his whole body flush to hers from behind.

"I found her in a museum," she finally uttered in her clear voice, and he stilled perplexedly.

"Sorry, I'm at a loss here."

"You used to say that a lot. In the beginning."

"Bones... I said some stuff in the beginning that I'm not proud of, okay?"

"I know. But that particular phrase was wrong, just plain wrong. Annoyingly so."

"Well, technically, the Medico-Legal Lab _belongs_ to a museum," he retorted, his breath tickling her neck.

"The Jeffersonian Institution is more than just a museum. Also, you made it sound as if I was a dusty artifact myself."

"Bones... You are not... you are..."

She turned around, and, as close as he was, her whole body was pressing against his in the process. Putting her head back, she removed the old-fashioned glasses, looking at him with no barrier between them.

"I'm not some kind of find," she simply stated, and, suddenly, his cheeks were burning hot.

He opened his mouth and closed it again, as she lifted her hand, toying with his shoulder holster. Her eyes were dark somehow and difficult to read.

"Tonight however," she continued after a while, "you _did_ find me in a museum."

And it finally sunk in. Welcome fantasy!

Taking a deep breath, he braced his hands on the table behind her, encircling her with his whole body.

"I did. And you're not what I expected."

Her confidence wavered for one second.

"I'm not? But there's the hair, the glasses, the coat..."

Lowering his head, he took a whiff of her scent.

"No," he murmured. "You look right. Too beautiful, of course, but you did a good job hiding it. It's just that underneath the disguise... you're something else. I can feel it. You don't belong here. Don't belong to dusty mummies."

"Where do I belong to?"

Her voice was a scratchy whisper and he hummed.

"Dunno yet. You know, I just found you. Maybe we should take a closer look."

And with that he grabbed the front of her coat, and, instantly, the snaps gave way, revealing... revealing-

"Holy shit, Bones!

He whistled.

"That is _not_ an outfit for a museum. Is that even a dress?"

It was black and lacy, that thing she wore underneath the gray coat, revealing more to his dark eyes than it covered. His gaze flew over her curves and back to her face. Her very flushed face.

"Wanna catalogue your find?" she asked almost breathlessly, and, after his heart had skipped a beat, his hand landed on her hip, following the shape of her body further upwards.

"Hmm. Female. In her thirties. Caucasian. 5'8. Approximately 140 pounds."

"135."

He chuckled before burying his fingers in her hair, loosening the pins in her bun until the dark mass of curls fell freely over her shoulders.

"The find is in excellent shape. Beautiful bone structure. Stunning proportions. I believe the common phrase would be 'sexually alluring'."

Now it was her turn to chuckle.

"See, Bones, I know how to talk squinty."

"You really do. Even though there isn't such a thing as talking- _oh_!"

His mouth had found that sensitive spot right below her ear, sucking gently, and, with his hand sliding around her back, he pulled her even closer against his hard body.

"There is," he whispered. "Talk to me."

"What... what shall I tell you?"

"Who is Tentonskupu?"

Snapping for air, she recalled some facts.

"Well, _Tentkhonsu_ was... a noble Egyptian woman who participated in temple services and festivals. Her coffin is richly, oh, richly decorated in an attempt to... to establish her superior status in the... in the afterlife. Booth..."

The tip of his tongue traced her collarbone ever so lightly, and she sucked in a sharp gasp.

"You're far more exciting than an old mummy, Bones," he murmured against her skin, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"There's a number of people who would disagree."

"They're blind or gay, then."

One leg parted her thighs, and her flimsy black thingy rode up even further, exposing the hem of her stockings, exposing the creamy smoothness of her skin.

"Bones?"

"Hm-hmm?"

"How alone exactly are we?"

"If you don't count mummies, very much alone. But, just in case, leave your holster on."

She winked at him, and he laughed out, leaning in to brush his lips over hers.

"Just in case, huh?"

Her mouth was pillowy and warm under his, lips parting almost instantly, and, within seconds, the kiss turned from soft to serious. Using the strength of his left arm, he lifted her onto the table top, pushing the golden cat aside.

"Careful. Very old," she uttered.

"And very ugly."

"Beauty is always in the eye of the beholder."

"Nuts. Beautiful... you are. The cat... not so."

"You're neither objective nor respectful, Agent Booth."

"And I'm not sorry, _Doctor_ Brennan."

"Shut up and kiss me again."

"Your wish is my command."

Supporting her neck with his palm, he pulled her head down, lips finding hers anew, and Booth was drowning in the intoxicating sensation that had always been kissing Brennan. Even when he had not known her, when she had just been an annoying smart-ass scientist lady, kissing her had always reduced him to something ancient... and maybe it was fitting that he finally got his chance to have her here, in this house of logic and history, surrounded by artifacts as old as his longing for her.

He thought about the way she had intimidated him so long ago, her disguise of reason and facts, thought about the cracks in her shell that had, eventually, allowed him glimpses of the mystery that was this woman. At first sight, she might look as if she belonged here, but at second sight... She was like the prim gray coat and the sinful dress underneath.

Cold and hot.

"Iceland," he murmured between kisses, his lips curving up, and even thought she didn't understand the context, she got the reference; got it and kept silent because, sometimes, talking is overrated... and so she kissed him, silky licks, gentle nips; and longing spread out in her belly, longing clouded her mind.

The smell of history mingled with the spicy scent of him, old mingled with new mingled with old, and when she opened the cocky belt buckle she knew so well, her hands were as impatient as his reaction to her.

'Outstanding specimen," she couldn't help but thinking as her palm closed around his velvety length, and he was pulsating in her hand like a heartbeat... only different.

If – in another universe, another time, another future – a picture or statue of Booth was displayed in a museum, there would only be one way to label it.

_Man_.

"Bones," he sighed into her hair, as she fisted his hardness, hot puffs of breath caressing her auricle.

"Bones," he pleaded, as her teeth found his earlobe, biting ever so lightly.

Using his last ounce of strength, he forced himself to take a step backwards, panting heavily, his brow covered in sweat, as he stood in front of her. His pants somewhere around his ankles. His fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

She wriggled impatiently, outstretching one hand.

"Come back..."

"No... Cannot. Yet."

With a sigh, she lay back on the table, precious cat be damned, her hand disappearing between her legs. He regarded her with wide eyes.

"Don't you dare!"

"Then come back," she purred, and he observed how her eyes dropped shut, as her fingers moved in a sensual dance.

"Bones," he growled, watching like mesmerized how she pleasured herself, an exhibition more exciting than any museum had ever seen, the bright light hiding none of her movements, nothing of her beauty.

Two heartbeats later, he was between her legs again, capturing her hand with his own, and, this time, it was her and his fingers that pushed her panties aside, his and her fingers that dove deep into her achingly hot body. So tight, so wet, so fucking perfect...

"Booth," she panted, her head rolling around on the table, and he twisted his fingers inside of her, caressing her even deeper.

Bending over the table, over her, he used his free hand to push some curls out of her face, her beautiful face, and he watched in awe how pleasure changed her countenance, all the while touching her so intimately.

"The find reacts to touch," he whispered, and she would have laughed if she hadn't been so busy _reacting_.

Then he was gone again, and a helpless whimper left her lips, but, before it had even subsided, he dropped to his knees, burying his head between her legs, just breathing her in.

"Booth... please!"

"What please?"

"Just... _something_..."

Lifting his head, he drank in her body, so willingly displayed for him, and, carefully, he tugged her panties down her legs, bypassing stockings and high heels, deciding to leave them on.

"Let's see how the find reacts to oral stimulation, shall we?"

It wasn't really a question, but she nodded nonetheless, and he blew softly over her overheated flesh, like he always did, like he always would.

"The find reacts poorly to teasing," she answered sharply, and he laughed out; laughed out before lowering his head for real, kissing her as intimately as ever possible, sucking her into his mouth, rubbing the flat of his tongue over her whole length, reducing her to a boneless puddle of need.

"Booth..."

Using his hands to spread her even further, he held her open to his caress, creating turmoil and soothing it, keeping her close to falling, close to the brink of something amazing, so close, oh so close. And, then, he pushed just a little bit further, pushed his tongue into her, pushed her over the brink and into the abyss, an abyss so bright and dark... and, suddenly, she was flying; flying on a cry, flying with a shudder, and he was kissing her, licking her, keeping her right there, taking and giving and cataloging her reactions.

And when she could think again, when she could blink again, he was there, right above her, his eyes searching hers, as he joined them, joined them with strength and tenderness.

One. Piece.

A moan, his or hers, weak limps wrapping around each other, bodies connecting in an age-old rhythm.

And it was perfect.

She had barely recovered, but she watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, her body helpless against the onslaught of sensations he was creating inside of her, his strength rushing through her insides until she could feel him everywhere in her and around her.

"Bones," he groaned, as his movements lost their finesse, and she cupped his buttocks with both palms, pulling him even deeper into her welcoming heat, kissing his throat, licking his pulse point, just feeling him, here and there and everywhere.

"Let go," she whispered into his ear, "come to me."

And, like it had happened so often before in the history of men and women, he trembled in her arms, almost violent shocks coursing through his body until there was nothing left to give.

Nothing but the sweet embrace of sated love.

One golden cat being the only witness.

-BONES-

Half an hour later found them freshly showered in her office, thank God for her private bathroom, and even though she was back in her regular clothes, her face was still glowing in that rosy way he loved to put there.

From his place on her couch, he watched her packing her shoulder bag, and something was gnawing at him.

"Bones?"

She looked at him with a questioning smile.

"I never thought you were some kind of find. You're way too lively, way too spirited."

Interrupting her task, she walked towards him, taking a seat on his lap without much ado, eying him sweetly.

"I know, Booth. Besides, I have some very fond memories of the Egyptian wing that center around you."

He joined in her smile, thinking about the boy with the bleeding heart.

"You almost kissed me."

"_You_ almost kissed _me_."

"You were so wonderful that night."

"Were?"

Her eyebrows wiggled playfully, and he swayed her in his arms.

"Are. Always are."

With a giggle, she let him kiss her, but, behind his back, she cast a glance at her watch.

"Booth, we have to go. I don't want Christine to be the last child to be picked up. The last child always looks so abandoned."

He twisted his face.

"Right. Let's hurry. We could grab a pizza on our way home."

"Sounds good. Although the nutritious value of pizza is highly questionable."

"Hmm... We could always eat salad and tofu tomorrow to make up for it."

"Now you're luring me with the promise of tofu, but tomorrow is has slipped your mind. I know your tricks!"

His chuckle vibrated in the otherwise silent room, and he put his arm around her shoulder, as they made their way outside.

"You do. Still... pizza?"

Her arm sidled around his waist.

"Pizza it is. But just so you know, tomorrow we _will_ have tofu and salad for dinner."

"I cannot wait for the day when our baby will look at you, saying, 'Yuck! Tofu. Don't poison me, Mommy!'"

She slapped him unceremoniously.

"Don't you dare instrumentalizing our daughter!"

He laughed even harder.

"You're cute."

"You're infuriating."

"I love you, Bones."

She grunted, but then her face softened.

"I love you, too."

And the lab was silent, as they walked into their weekend.

Into the sun.

To be continued.


	5. The Voice in the Darkness

_Thanks to Some1tookmyname for some live grammar support! The mistakes are mine, not hers._

V. The Voice in the Darkness

"No, Michael, you cannot share a bed with Christine."

Cries turned into shrieking, and Brennan suppressed the urge to cover her ears. Booth did not.

"Michael, that's not how it works."

The little boy's face turned red, as he gasped for breath.

"No."

"Bones..."

She turned around, her eyes sparkling dangerously. The spinach bits in her hair gave her quite a wild look, and smeary little hand prints were covering her beige-colored shirt.

"What?"

"Just," he swallowed hard, "just stop him."

Christine decided to support her friend in his cause, joining in the bawling. In the distance, a dog started to howl...

Half an hour later, Booth turned around under his blanket. The silence felt like soothing balm to his ears, but that was the only thing pleasant about the current arrangement.

"Bones?" he whispered, and a growl was his answer.

"I'm sleeping."

"No, you're not. Bones, this couch is too small for the two of us."

She sighed, thinking about two toddlers occupying their big and comfortable bed on the upper floor.

"Someone has to teach this child the basic concept of 'no'."

Booth chuckled weakly, as he thought about one soft-hearted bug expert and his free-spirited wife.

"Yeah, but who?"

"Tell me again, why are we doing this?"

"Angela and Hodgins need an evening to relax," he answered drily.

"Last time I checked, they looked pretty relaxed to me," Brennan uttered.

"Also, they're returning the favor tomorrow."

She turned around on the couch, and he almost lost his balance.

"They do?"

"Yeah."

"So we can relax?"

Wrapping his arms around her, he figured that they'd be much more comfortable if she was sprawled over him.

"Or... something else," he replied with a smirk, his hands spanning her waist.

"Something else?" she repeated, searching his eyes in the moonlit room.

He smiled up at her, kissing her nose, and the curtain of her hair tickled his face.

"I promise it'll be worth it."

"It better be."

"You think you can sleep like that?"

"We should try. The little siren might wake up any time..."

-BONES-

Fantasy role play had been a good idea, Booth mused while brushing his teeth the next morning. By no means as weird as he had feared in the beginning. Not weird at all. Kind of interesting in a... in a scientific way. Ah, scratch that, it was hot as hell.

Spitting out the toothpaste, he rinsed out his mouth, gargling with enthusiasm.

His back ached a little bit from being stuck between Brennan and the couch for the better part of the night, but the distant pain vanished, as he thought about his plans for the evening. Their plans.

Fantasy role play.

So far, her takes had been sweet and oh so hot. His had been kind of romantic but just as exciting. There were a million possible scenarios he could create for them, but he couldn't stop thinking about one particular evening. An evening he wanted to rewrite so badly.

Was it okay to take her back to a moment that had the potential to make her sad? Could he use his fantasy night to soothe an old pain? Questioning brown eyes were looking back at him in the mirror, but then his gaze fell to the funny toothbrush holder, the one that looked like a shell. A shell that had her name on it; that now had his name on it as well, written with a Sharpie in her clear handwriting.

He thought about Max, the father who hadn't been, thought about a dark night, her smile the only thing shining brightly, as she had pressed the shell to her ear. Thought about losses that had, in the end, enriched their life.

Splashing some aftershave onto his smooth cheeks, he decided that he should go ahead with it. After all, they had never done it the easy way – falling in love, having a baby – and even though tonight's fantasy might not be light-hearted, it would be worth it. Just like all the hard stuff they'd been through had always been worth it.

Grabbing a gray shirt, he pulled it over his head while jumping down the stairs.

It smelled like coffee and pancakes, the radio was playing a song, children were laughing, and he knew that he was only seconds away from her smile.

Life was freaking awesome.

-BONES-

"Why don't you tell me where we're going?"

Brennan was sitting next to him in the car, as they made their way through the illuminated streets of the big city, asking the very same question for the third time. Like all the three times before, he just shook his head.

"Nope."

"'Nope' is not an answer to my question."

"Because I don't want to tell you."

"That is a very childish reply."

"Fine, Bones. This is my fantasy, alright? My fantasy, my rules. Also..."

"Also?"

"You might jump out of the car," he finally admitted, and she wrinkled up her nose.

"Why should I do that? Given our velocity, the impact could be devastating."

"I know. Still..."

"Booth... What kind of fantasy did you pick?" she asked cautiously, but he kept silent for a mile. And another one.

"It's a moment... a moment I never got the chance to cherish," he finally said softly.

She wiggled her eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Just so you know, I am wearing very fancy underwear."

He laughed out briefly, but his smile vanished soon.

"After all, you're a girl, and girls just wanna have fun, huh?"

She froze next to him.

"What did you say?"

Squinting out of the window, she tried to spot something familiar, tried to make sense of the area. Finally, a neon sign caught her attention, and her stomach turned upside down.

"No..."

It was barely a whisper in the otherwise silent car.

Blood. Red blood pooling between her fingers. Cheeks so white, eyes so empty. Every heartbeat pumping even more blood out of his body; his precious body, his precious blood. A ruined green jacket. Heartache. Cries were, just moments ago, music had been.

This was the place where she had lost him, and even though she had gotten him back, this would forever be the place where she had lost him. And he had brought her here, right here.

To the parking lot of the Checkerbox.

Suddenly, her palms were sweaty, and she tried to dry them on her jeans.

Cutting off the engine, he turned to her with his whole body, tapping her chin with his fingers.

"Bones?"

She swallowed hard.

"Please... Do you trust me?"

"You know that I do."

Her voice was very small.

"Then listen to me, okay? Let me explain."

Finally a nod.

"I know that this place is bad for you. Bad memories, okay? You shot someone. You saw me dying. But... that's just one part of the story. Before that stuff happened, I witnessed something amazing."

He paused for a moment, but she didn't look into his eyes.

"_You_, Bones. You were singing. Dancing. Seeing you like that... it made me so happy."

"Booth..."

"So very happy," he continued urgently. "I could feel your joy, share it. And _after_ everything had happened, I was someplace cold and dark. I was all alone, but your voice," now it was his turn to swallow, "your voice was still there. So clear. I could hear you in the darkness, singing to me. Your voice was the only thing that made sense. I think... I think you saved me."

Lifting her head, she met his eyes, and the vulnerability in her deep blue orbs hit him deeply.

"Why did you bring me here?" she finally asked, and he clasped her sweaty fingers with his warm hand.

"To hear the end of your song. To give you the applause you deserved. To tell you how beautiful your voice is. To find out why I couldn't stop looking at you that night."

Raising her hand, she pressed it to his chest, right where the bullet had ripped open his flesh so long ago. The scar was tickling underneath her touch.

"You picked a hard one," she simply said, before turning around and opening the car door.

He hurried to follow her, taking her hand once again, and, like that, they entered the crowded bar. Blinking a few times, Brennan let her eyes adjust to the dim light, and then she drew a deep breath. There were the tables. The stage. The piano. The floor where his blood had once been shed was clean, but, otherwise, the place hadn't changed one bit. A woman on the stage was singing "Summertime".

Dizziness was clouding her mind, as he tugged her to one table on the left side of the stage, and she barely registered how he ordered their drinks, light beer for him, red wine for her.

"Summertime" ended. "Wonderful Tonight" began.

Her heartbeat calmed down.

Finally, she turned to him.

"I cannot sing _that_ song."

He nodded slowly while taking a sip of his beer.

"Fair enough."

Reaching for her glass, she gulped down half of the wine without thinking.

"Bones. Hey..."

"Hmm?"

His fingers found hers on the table, drawing patterns on the back of her hand.

"I know that you can do it. That you maybe even should do it. We never... never made peace with that night, you know? But, hey, I don't wanna force you. I've already told you what I needed to say. We can just leave, go home, and I'll make love to you until nothing hurts anymore, okay?"

A tiny smile played around her lips.

"But that would be a crappy fantasy night."

He chuckled.

"Who needs fantasy nights when the reality is so damn perfect, huh?"

She took another sip of wine, slower this time.

Then:

"No, I want to sing."

His heart did a somersault, as a big smile blossomed on his face.

"Yeah?"

His beaming face warmed her from the inside out.

"Yes. I know more than one song."

"You know, Bones, I didn't really think you'd be that good."

"I'm an excellent singer."

And so very modest. He smirked.

"I noticed. You blew my mind."

One more sip of wine, as she pondered everything he had said.

"You could really hear my voice?"

He nodded firmly.

"Thanks for telling me. I... I kind of hated that song. Afterwards."

"And I loved it. I'm so sorry, Bones..."

She shook her head.

"No regrets, Booth."

"Right. No regrets. Just you and me. Here."

The song faded out, and she squared her shoulders.

"My turn."

"Have fun, girl!"

"Watch me."

"Oh, I will."

She went to the stage with her head held high, her auburn hair illuminated by the spotlight, and if she was scared, you couldn't tell from her posture. She was every incarnation of grace, and his heart was so damn open for her. The piano man nodded, as she chose her song, and, after the first tones, Booth shook his head in wonder. Janis Joplin? His partner never failed to amaze him, never.

With a deep breath, Brennan began to sing, her clear voice filling the space, caressing the air, until every pair of eyes in the room was focused on her.

The first time he had seen her like this, she had been gorgeous but just a little bit clumsy, carefree like a child. Tonight, there was nothing playful about her. Her voice was darker, almost smoky, and she didn't dance, she didn't jump around. She was just standing there, holding the micro, swaying her hips ever so gently, but her eyes, her dazzling eyes never left his.

_Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose..._

He knew her song, knew it by heart – Hell, who did not know "Bobby McGee"? – but he had never heard it like today, had never felt it deep down in his soul.

And, on the stage, she sang about the bittersweet drawback of being free, sang about loving and losing someone... sang about a time and a song.

_But I'd trade all of my tomorrows for one single yesterday, to be holding Bobby's body next to mine..._

She delivered that line with the wisdom of a woman who knew that wish by heart, and he realized that she probably did... While he had been holding fast onto her voice, she had mourned his death, and, suddenly, he felt like a jerk for dragging her to this place again, for doing this to her, but... oh... she was standing there in the spotlight, singing with her soul wide open. She was one with the moment, one with the tune, one with the room, and it was so breathtakingly beautiful, so beautiful that it almost hurt... and maybe he wasn't such a jerk after all.

Her lips closed around the last tone, the melody fading away, and roaring applause marked the end of her performance. There was no one in the room who wasn't looking at her, but she was only looking at him, leaving the stage, walking straight into his arms. And he kissed her; her hair, her brow, whatever. And he held her, held her tight to his chest, his warm, big and unharmed chest.

"Wonderful, just wonderful," he finally whispered, and even though her eyes were moist, she was smiling.

"Thank you."

"Seriously, you rock, Baby."

And she let her head fall onto his shoulder, breathing him in, taking the hug he wouldn't have allowed himself to give her back then... and it was right.

His arms encircled her waist, safe and steady.

"I sang for you," she finally said, and he knew exactly what she was trying to say.

"I know. _Knew_. And I was listening, Bones, listening to every single word. You're awesome."

"Booth? Take me somewhere beautiful."

"Yes."

-BONES-

They rode in silence once more, but, this time, it wasn't a painful kind of silence. The music was still echoing in her head, making her feel alive, making her, once again, oh so thankful that he was alive as well. Every once in a while, her eyes flickered to his handsome face, free of worry lines or pain, and she thought about the song she had just sung; thought how feeling good was good enough for her as well and that, sometimes, freedom was overrated when it equaled having nothing left to lose.

"Booth?"

"Hmm?"

"Ever since we first met... you made me do things; things I didn't want to do in the first place."

He furrowed his brow, and she hurried to clarify.

"That came out wrong. What I wanted to say is... you've always pushed me out of my comfort zone. Pushed me into something even more comfortable... Does that make sense?"

His hand found hers, squeezing briefly.

"It does."

"Thank you for pushing me."

"Bones, I never wanted to push you. At least not too hard."

"I know. Thank you for tonight. That was... surprisingly cleansing. I feel good now."

"You do?"

He stopped the car next to the secluded bank of the Potomac River, and when he turned off the headlights, the dark velvet of the night revealed a myriad of sparkling stars on the firmament.

"Come here."

And, without objection, she opened her seat belt, crawling onto his lap in the narrow space of the car. Her head found its place in the crook of his neck, and he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply.

"When you were singing... that first time... I felt so close to you. I wanted to hug you and stay in that moment forever, you know? I... I _really_ wanted you to have fun, Bones."

"I was having fun."

"Yeah, but... _more_ fun."

"You wanted to have sex with me that night?"

He chuckled.

"I wanted to have sex with you most nights."

Laughing out, she was feeling sensitive and giddy at the same time.

"Well... every now and then, I might have let you."

"Ho-hum. Every now and then. I never wanted 'every now and then', Bones."

"I know. That was the problem," she admitted honestly, and he slipped his hands under her blouse.

"But... you know, every now and then, I was tempted to choose 'every now and then' over 'never ever'."

"Like that night?"

"Hmm... you're so beautiful when you're happy. So beautiful..."

"Booth..."

He gave her a lopsided sneer.

"Too sappy?"

She smiled into his neck.

"Our sentiments match."

"Aw, are you feelin' a little bit mushy, Bones?"

She slapped him lightly.

"Don't be so cocky!"

With a rough laugh, his mouth found hers, catching her completely off guard with the intensity of his kiss. His tongue slipped between her lips until they parted, letting him in, and his hand cupped the back of her head, holding her close; holding her close until she could hardly think anymore, and still he was kissing her, was kissing her weak and breathless.

Heat was building, where bodies were grinding into each other, and, at the juncture of her thighs, she could feel his response to their intimacy. Her breasts were achingly heavy, pressing against the restraint of her bra, and she wriggled on his lap to relieve some of the tension.

His growl sounded almost feral in the pocket universe of their car.

Reaching out with his left hand, he adjusted the driver's seat to give them more legroom, and the sudden movement rocked her even deeper into his lap.

Her head flew back on a gasp, exposing her throat to his mouth, and he wrapped himself around her, following the curve of her neck with his lips.

"Bones," he whispered, and she sighed under his caresses, her fingers tousling his dark hair.

"Lean back," he commanded, and, without second thought, she obeyed until her back hit the steering wheel.

Deft fingers made short process with the buttons of her blouse. The garment parted, revealing milky-white skin, revealing her lace-covered breasts. The material was so thin that he could see right through it, and his mouth went dry at the sight of her full curves; went dry and watered at the same time, as he took in the dusky rosebuds of her hard nipples.

She could feel the night air like a caress on her bare skin, and then the sensation was replaced by an entirely different one, as his warm breath tickled her.

"Booth..."

His mouth opened and closed again, tugging her tender flesh between his lips, licking and sucking her through the rough lace of her bra. The raspy tip of his tongue whispered over her sensitive peak, and her back arched.

"Yessss."

With a smile, he swapped breasts, repeating his ministrations, and, between their bodies, one busy hand undid the buttons of her jeans until he could wiggle one hand inside.

Finding even more lace. And warmth. Her very own kind of warmth.

She rocked into his touch with a cry, and he released her breast with one more kiss. Lifting his head, he looked at her... and the breath whooshed out of his lungs.

All the years, all the fantasies, all the times she had been in this car with him... it was nothing compared to this, the sight of her so wantonly in front of him. Her lips were red, her chest heaving, the outline of her nipples clearly visible through the damp lace of her bra. Her lashes cast dark shadows on her rosy cheeks, and, between her legs, he could see the bulge of his own hand in her jeans.

A frustrated moan left her lips, and he smiled at her impatience. Lowering himself anew, he bent over her completely, his mouth finding her breast once more, and, between her thighs, he parted damp folds, one finger sinking into her slick heat.

Her breath hitched.

Trying to open her legs even further, trying to give him better access, she surrendered herself to his touch, helpless against the sensations he created. He knew her body too well, knew how to touch her, how to lick her, and, as her eyes flew open, she could see the starry sky through the windshield.

Beautiful, so beautiful.

Gathering some strength, she lifted her head until she could recognize his dark head between her breasts. He was so close, so intimately close to her, and, between her legs, the world was vibrating, as his thick phalanges moved inside of her. So good, so deep.

"Booth!"

Fingers were tugging at his hair, and he let go of her breast with a groan, raising his head to meet her eyes... her wide blue eyes.

"Yes, Babe?" he whispered roughly, using his thumb to brush over her swollen clit, and she bit her lip, as blood rushed into her cheeks.

Lifting his free hand, he traced her bottom lip, and she sucked his finger into her mouth, her tongue rolling over the tip.

"Are you close?"

A whimper was his answer, and he twisted his finger inside of her, already feeling the telltale flutter of her silken walls.

"Let go," he demanded, and her brow wrinkled up in sweet agony.

He leaned in, his lips grazing her ear, nuzzling her soft skin.

"Bones, this is _fun_," he whispered, and she laughed... laughed and cried out at the same time, as her body shuddered in release; as her orgasm became as much a part of her as her next breath.

Freeing his hands, he wrapped his arms around her completely, pulling her boneless body flush to his.

"That's my girl."

He sounded just a little bit proud, and she panted heavily.

"I'm not... not a... _Ah_, never mind."

Snuggling into his chest, Brennan allowed herself a few luxurious moments to catch her breath, but, soon, she could feel his taut body underneath her sated one. Lifting her head, she sought his lips for a gentle kiss, and then she slid down his body until she was kneeling in the narrow space between his legs. It was a tight fit, but, fortunately, she had never been claustrophobic.

Booth watched her, as she opened belt buckle and zipper, finally freeing his painfully hard erection.

"Bones, you don't have to."

"I know.

And, just like that, she took him into her mouth, swallowing him without preamble. He cursed softly, hips buckling against his will. Her shoulder hit the steering wheel, and he pulled back, but she simply followed his movement, all the while licking and sucking him. One hand cupped the back of her head, and she smiled, knowing the battle that instinct and chivalry were fighting inside of him. Releasing him with a wet kiss, she looked up at him sweetly

"Booth. Just do what you want to do. You know that I don't mind."

"Bones," he protested weakly, but her fingernails were running carefully over his velvety length.

"Don't be gentle," she just said.

Then her mouth was back on him, hot lips closing around his throbbing tip, and, with a groan, he gave in, rocking into her warm mouth. Brennan squeezed his thigh encouragingly, and his fingers tunneled in the silk of her hair. She hummed against his flesh, sucking him deeply, and one hand moved between his legs, stroking his satiny balls.

His hips pistoned forward, and she opened her mouth further to him, as he hit her throat. His hands in her hair were clenching and unclenching, and she knew that he was losing it. Looking upwards, she took him in even deeper, and she could see that he was watching her.

Was. Watching. Her.

Her pink lips all around him, his hard length disappearing into her wet mouth over and over again. She was good, so good, and he loved her so damn much, and she was so wonderful, and, _oh_, she was Bones...

"Bones," he rasped, and she squeezed him with her full lips, her eyes turning to a darker shade of blue. Was... was this arousing her as well?

He needed to know.

"Bones... Bones... You...?"

He was babbling incoherently, and she circled the plump head of him with her tongue. He was always such a gentleman, so in control, and seeing him losing his mind like this made her wet, so wet. She loved him, loved him with body and soul, but, sometimes, oh, sometimes it was so wickedly good just to screw him.

Suddenly, his fingers in her hair were hurting, and, looking up again, she could see something close to despair on his face.

She replaced her mouth with her palm.

"It's okay, just come."

"Are you... are you turned on?" he uttered between pressed teeth, and she nodded without shame.

"Yes. You're-"

"Get out," he cut her off sharply, his whole body cocked like a weapon.

She squeezed him with her fist, lowering her head anew.

"No, I want to-"

"Get. Out," he hissed, and his strained voice went straight to her throbbing core.

He opened the door, and she climbed out clumsily. Within seconds, he was behind her, tugging pants and panties down her legs, bending her over the hood. She could feel his heat, his unleashed power from behind, and, pressing her cheek to the cold metal, she spread her legs for him.

"Bones?" he grunted, and she nodded wildly.

"Yes, yes, _yes_."

He was inside of her at the second "yes", stretching her deliciously, and, without rhythm, he rammed into her, hard and fast and deep. Her head was spinning, her lips still swollen, and her belly tightened with every thrust. The hood felt even cooler in contrast to her overheated body, the flimsy bra being the only thing protecting her tender breasts, and then he was sliding one hand around her, rubbing her mound with the flat of his palm; rubbing her and stroking her and taking her and possessing her... until he tensed, tensed with his whole body, letting go with a sharp cry that was her name. He was pulsating inside of her, so deep inside of her, adding his wetness to her own, and, for the second time that night, he simply overwhelmed her.

The dead weight of his body collapsed on top of her, but she couldn't care less because he was alive, and she was alive, and nothing did hurt.

-BONES-

She was the one to recover first, but since he was still pinning her to the hood, she couldn't do much with her newly found energy.

"Booth?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think you can move?"

"No."

She laughed.

"Do you wanna try nonetheless?"

He grunted, but shifted his weight, bracing himself on the car next to her. He looked funny, fully clothed but his pants pooling around his ankles, and a smile curved up her lips. She pecked his shoulder.

"You were right, Booth, that was fun."

He chuckled softly, and she grabbed her pants before heading to the trunk. She found his gym bag in its usual place, and, after using the towel to clean herself, she circled the car once more to show him the same attention.

Booth regarded her weakly, and, some moments later, Brennan closed the same belt buckle she had unfastened earlier with nimble fingers.

"You're sweet," he said, and she tilted her head.

"I can be sweet sometimes."

Pulling her close with one arm, he kissed her tenderly.

"I know."

In his eyes, love and devotion were shining as brightly as the stars above them.

"You want some wine?"

Her eyebrows arched up.

"You have wine in the car?"

He shrugged.

"Yeah. I wasn't sure about tonight and I figured I'd better be prepared for whatever."

Her fingers played with the hem of his shirt.

"Tonight was... good. And, yes, I'd love to have some wine."

-BONES-

Fifteen minutes later, they were lying on top of the hood, gazing at the stars. She was enjoying her wine; he was enjoying her head on his shoulder.

"Bones?"

"Yes?"

He cleared his throat.

_Starry, starry night.  
Paint your palette blue and gray,  
Look out on a summer's day,  
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul. _

His voice as was imperfect as a half moon and just as fitting. Her smaller hand slipped into his big one, as she joined in his song.

_Shadows on the hills,  
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,  
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,  
In colors on the snowy linen land. _

The things she had been feeling back then, the things she was feeling now... they mingled in the starry, starry night; mingled until they were released into the air... as one song.

And, just like that night, he could hear her voice in the darkness.

_To be continued._

_I really hope they use that toothbrush holder._

_Also, thanks for reading, I had a lot of fun with this chapter!_


	6. His Head on Her Shoulder

_Thanks to lovely Some1tookmyname for even more twitter grammar support._

VI. His Head on Her Shoulder

"You need a babysitter again?"

Brennan's eyes widened worriedly.

"Do you think we're leaving her alone too often?"

Angela sashayed into her friend's office, shaking her head.

"Not at all. I'm happy to see that Mommy and Daddy are growing up. I'm just curious."

"Curious?"

"What are you doing with your evening off?"

A sweet smile appeared on Brennan's face.

"Booth and I have to talk."

One perfectly plucked eyebrow arched up.

"Talk? Talk. Sweetie... that's the best you can come up with for your baby-free night?"

"Well..."

Angela sighed deeply.

"Bren... how's your sex life? Everything alright?"

Silent midnight air brushing over her body while he covered her from behind. The soothing movements of a boat. Ancient dust witnessing new heat...

The smile deepened.

"Don't worry, Ange, we're fine. More than fine."

"So..."

"So...?"

"You and Booth are...?"

Angela's hands twisted in some kind of funny gesture and Brennan wrinkled up her nose.

"Is that supposed to stand for intercourse? Because, if so, you should work on it, Angela."

The artist rolled her eyes.

"So you're still doing the horizontal mambo-jambo?"

"Does it have to be horizontal?"

"Brennan."

"Yes?"

"Ah, never mind. Do whatever you want to do."

"So, tonight is okay?"

"Tonight is fine. Michael will be very happy."

"Wonderful. Also, I have one more favor to ask."

"Spill."

-BONES-

"She did what?"

Booth regarded the man in front of him incredulously, but Hodgins simply gestured at the bottle of Balvenie in his hand.

"She was very precise in her instructions."

Leaning back in his chair, Booth loosened his tie with a sigh.

"I bet she was. Look, Hodgins, I had a crappy day. I just wanna go home, hug Bones and put my daughter to bed."

The entomologist shook his head.

"Christine's having a sleepover tonight. As for the hug... I can only guess."

Blue eyes were smirking.

"Where's Bones?"

"Right now? I don't know. But I know where she will be in about two hours. Like I said, very precise instructions."

One more sigh, then:

"Fine. Let's get drunk."

Jack Hodgins plopped onto the chair in front of Booth's desk.

"No 'us'. Just you."

"Forget it, man. You want me to drink? You're drinking with me."

"But I'm supposed to drive you-"

"Cab."

"But she said-"

"I always thought you were a rebel..."

Opening his desk drawer, Booth took out two tumblers. Hodgins uncorked the bottle with an almost reverent expression on his face, filling the glasses.

"I _am_ a rebel, Dude."

"Cheers."

Glasses clinked, and then the alcohol ran down their throats. This was a bad idea. A really bad idea. What had she been thinking?

-BONES-

"... and then he slept with the spider in his little fist."

"He slept with it?"

Hodgins nodded with sparkling eyes.

"Angela freaked out, but, man, I was so proud."

"And the spider?"

"Uh, she didn't make it..."

Silence.

"Poor spider..."

"Yeah, poor spider..."

Booth refilled the glasses for the third time.

"To the spider!"

"To the spider."

And they drank.

Two rounds of Scotch later, Booth was warming up to the idea of getting drunk. Maybe, just maybe he was a little bit tipsy already. Or... a little bit more than tipsy. The Whiskey was exquisite, smoky and sweet at the same time, and after a day full of budget meetings, it was nice to drown in something so simple yet beautiful. Brennan wanted to have him drunk, and he would deliver.

He couldn't help but thinking about the last time he had lost himself in a bottle. She had been gone for two weeks, and he had been crazy with missing her and the baby. Everything had been dark, so dark and painful, and her scent on the pillow had begun to fade. Memories had been the only thing keeping him sane; keeping him sane and driving him nuts at the same time. Swallowing hard, Booth reached for his glass anew.

He had found her. She had come back. Her hair was as brown as he had always known it, and those days in disguise were long gone. She was his, every day and every night, only his. Where was she?

"Where's Bones?"

"Lincoln Memorial," came the slurred reply. "Wanna go there?"

"Dunno. You're the one with the instructions."

"Right! Damn it. Yeah, you should totally go there."

Ten minutes later, the cab made its way through the cloudy night. On the back seat next to him, Hodgins was snoring softly, and Booth himself had a hard time focusing on the buildings outside. They were just a little bit blurred, flying by faster than they should. Swallowing hard, he fought against the dizziness; fought against the alcohol in his system, as he thought about another night in a different cab.

The Lincoln Memorial. When had that been? Years ago. Max had been in jail. They had cracked an old case. He had been drunk, completely wasted... just like today. She had been different back then, but she had already been his Bones. His sweet and wonderful Bones.

"Here we are."

"Right."

Some bills, some advice about his wasted friend later, Booth was crossing the vast space. It was chilly, and the place was deserted, but he knew where to go. The impressive monument was illuminated, stony Abraham Lincoln towering on his throne, and on the steps right in front of it, he could spot a lonesome figure.

His heart tightened. It still did that, even after all those years. He would never take it for granted that she was waiting for him, _he_ had just waited for _her_ damn too long.

And she was beautiful... it wasn't just the Scotch of the night or the fact that he had loved her for the better part of their professional relationship, no, it was just her. Her face bare of make-up, her hair in a messy ponytail, a to go cup of coffee sitting next to her.

"Heya."

She gave him her dazzling smile, and he crashed next to her on the steps.

"I see you followed my instructions."

"Hmm... good Scotch, Baby."

She chuckled, shoving the coffee cup into his hands.

"It shouldn't be too hot anymore."

"Why did you make me drunk?"

She kept silent for a few heartbeats, and he took a sip of his coffee. It was strong and lukewarm. How long had she really been waiting?

"Remember that night? Here?" she finally said, and he nodded. They had been sitting right here, she and him and the coffee cup. His head on her shoulder.

"Yeah. You wanna have sex here? Honestly, I had _a lot of_ Scotch..."

"I couldn't tell," she smiled. "No, I'm not interested in getting us arrested. This is another kind of fantasy."

"Another kind?"

His dulled brain tried to make sense of her words.

"That night... I didn't expect to see you again. Until I got your text. Booth, why did we meet?"

He shrugged clumsily.

"We always meet after a case. I guess I wanted to see you."

She bumped his shoulder playfully.

"I wanted to see you, too. But... I didn't even know why. And when you arrived, you were barely able to walk. I had never seen you like that before, Booth. You were adorable."

He snorted.

"I am _not_ ado- adorable."

"My perception is mine."

"Potato, patato."

"Booth... that day, I went to see my dad in jail."

"I remember."

"Now he's part of our live. Our daughter has a grandfather. You did that, Booth, you."

He braced on his elbows, his head rolling around.

"No, Bones, you decided to give him another chance."

"You made me. You taught me to reach out to other people, and, that night, I was so... so _open_. Remember what happened after we left?"

Thinking was a hard thing to do, but he tried to sort his memories.

"You took me home. The next morning, I woke up on my couch with the headache of my life."

"And I woke up with your arms all around me," she blurted out on one single puff of breath.

His head flung around, and nausea was the answer. He swallowed hard.

"You did? Why? How?"

Her fingers brushed his knee.

"You were quite difficult to handle. After I managed to drag you home, you refused to let me go. You were so sweet, Booth. You took my hand," her actions mimicked her story, as she reached for his hand. "Your head fell onto my shoulder... and then I was in your arms, lying on your couch. With you. And you were sleeping."

The real Booth next to her looked visibly upset, as his heavy head found its place on her shoulder.

"I don't remember," he whispered into her shirt, but she calmed him.

"It's okay. You know, I could have left... but I was so warm and relaxed. It was selfish, Booth, but, ever since, that night has been precious to me. I woke up early, and you were sleeping soundly. Had you been awake... I don't know, I was feeling so much. Leaving was hard, but... easier."

"Bones..."

His warm breath tickled her neck in the sweetest way ever, and she tilted her head until her cheek rested on top of his head.

"Emotions... I never trusted them. They are ephemeral, not tangible. You were the first feeling I could allow myself to rely on, Booth. I was safe with you. In every kind of the word. I wanna thank you for that. I already wanted to thank you back then."

Lifting his head, he regarded her in awe; breathless, speechless.

"You know what I wanted to do?" he finally said, and she met his eyes.

"No. What?"

His hand curled around her nape, pulling her down to him, and when his mouth opened under hers, it tasted like coffee and Scotch and him. He tasted just like he would have tasted, and he kissed her like he had wanted to kiss her that night; slowly and thoroughly, lips pressing against each other ever so softly, tongues connecting in the most intimate way. She sighed, and he could feel it in his mouth; could feel the silk of her hair between his fingers, could feel how open her heart was for him. How open it, maybe, had always been.

"Bones," he whispered softly, and she meowed in response.

When they broke the kiss, he gave her that kind of candid smile only the truly drunken ones can muster, gesturing at the monument behind them.

"Good old Abe here... he's solid, Bones, but you... you've always been more solid to me. You're my cornerstone – even when the world is staggering."

She brushed his nose with hers.

"I was right."

"Right?"

"You're adorable."

And he kissed her again; because she was the only thing steady in his unsteady world, because he was allowed to do so, because he was drunk and his brain had no filter, because she was Bones and he had always wanted to kiss her.

Above them, the sky opened, heavy raindrops mingling with the taste of her.

"Noooo."

His brain registered her girlish squeak, and his lips curved up in response.

"It's not supposed to rain," she pouted, and he laughed even harder, his nose nudging her neck.

"You cannot control the weather."

"Still..."

"Bones?"

"Yes?"

"Take me home."

Getting up, she smoothed her wrinkled shirt before outstretching one hand to him. Accepting it gratefully, he tried to stand on wobbly legs.

"Jeez, I'm drunk."

Wrapping her arm around his waist, she supported his weight.

"I'm sorry."

He chuckled.

"Ah, well, Hodgins is even more wasted."

"Hodgins? But I told him to-"

"He's a rebel, Bones. Rebel."

She wrinkled her brow, as she tried to maneuver her partner in the right direction, and he hugged her while walking.

"My Bones. So soft and strong."

"My Booth. So sentimental and heavy..."

By the time they reached the car, both of them were soaked, but only one of them was sober enough to care. Pushing him into to passenger seat was quite a task since he wouldn't stop kissing her, and part of her regretted this trip down memory lane. The other part, however, couldn't help but reminding her how badly she had wanted to kiss him back then; how much she had longed to be close to him. How sweet he was. And had been.

Fastening his seat belt, she brushed some raindrops out of his face, and he looked up at her with big and trustful eyes. Taking her hand, he peppered soft kisses into her palm.

"We're going home now."

"I'm trying."

"Our home, Bones. You and me and the car. _Our home_. Amazing..."

She couldn't help but smile.

"I know."

"And, tomorrow, you'll still be there. Let me wake up next to you, will you?"

He was looking at her almost pleadingly, and she squeezed his hand.

"I promise."

His eyes closed, and, finally, she circled the car, getting into the driver's seat.

"God, I love you so much, so damn much."

Joy, ridiculous joy spread through her veins.

"I love you, too, Booth. Damn much right back."

His hand found her knee, and he sighed.

"I might be too hammered to make love to you, Baby."

She laughed out.

"I don't care. You and me and the first times we could have had... that's more than just sex, Booth."

His head rolled around and dazed brown eyes flew open.

"I know. Still... the sex is quite amazing."

He above her... under her... all around her. Moving inside of her...

"Yes, it is."

"You know what else is quite amazing?"

"Huh?"

"You..."

And the rain was falling heavily onto their windshield, as the car was set in motion.

He made her stop twice on their way back home; once at a public restroom, the other time to buy a burger in a drive-through. Since getting him inebriated had been her idea, she didn't try to reason with him, but half an hour later, Brennan was truly grateful, as she parked the car in their driveway.

"Booth?"

She poked the silent man next to her with one gentle finger. A grunt was her answer.

"We're home. You have to get up."

"Five more minutes," he slurred, grabbing her hand and curling himself around it.

"Booth," she whispered. "Our bed is just a few feet away."

"Bed..."

"Yes."

"Bones, I'm wet."

"That's because of the rain."

"Are you wet, too?"

"Yes, I am."

Rolling her eyes, she pulled her hand out of his grip, tickling his cheek with her fingertips.

"You're mean", he whined.

"Booth, I really like to get out of my wet clothes."

One eye flew open.

"Out of your clothes?"

Leaning in, she kissed the still-closed eyelid.

"Hm-hmm. You can watch if you want."

"And then?"

She shrugged.

"You're the one who claimed to be too intoxicated for intercourse."

He screwed up his nose, and she hurried to add.

"Love-making. Sex. Horizontal mambo-jambo."

"Mambo-jambo? Bones... Where did you even learn that word?"

Brennan laughed.

"Come on, let's get you inside."

He grumbled incoherently, but, finally, started to move. It was still pelting down, and they stumbled over the doorstep as a tangle of heavy limbs and raindrops. Since he was already in motion, Brennan decided that getting him as close to the bed as possible would be best, and damp footprints were left behind, as they made their way upstairs.

With a deep groan, he fell backwards, collapsing on top of their bedspread, dripping all over it. Bending over him with a smile, she pulled off his shoes. Polka-dotted socks were greeting her, and she removed them as well. His pants were next, and she lowered herself to the mattress beside him. He moaned deep in his chest, as she undid the belt buckle with expert hands.

"Lift your hips," she whispered, and that was one command he would always act on.

The pants had protected his boxers from the rain, but since she was already undressing him and had never done something halfway, she pulled them down his legs as well. His shirt was soaked and wrinkled, and Brennan hurried to open the tiny buttons.

"Can you sit up?"

He wrapped his arms around her neck, allowing her to drag him into a sitting position, and after some struggles, she managed to shed the garment. His skin was damp and cold, goosebumps covering his naked arms. She threw the superfluous shirt away, and he fell back onto the mattress. Heavy-lidded eyes opened in the dim-lit room.

"Your turn," he murmured, and, getting up, she simply pulled the soaked shirt over her head.

Taking a deep breath, he watched her. The fabric of her pale pink bra was sticking to her skin, and he could see the darker shade of her areolas underneath. One blink later, he could plain see _her_ because she had opened the clasp, striping off the bra. Her breasts swayed gently, as she busied herself with the buttons of her jeans, trying to get out of the damp thing, and, shortly after, she was standing in front of him as bare as the night. Regardless of how often he had already seen her like this, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, and her own gaze roamed over his exposed body until it met his eyes.

"As are you," she simply answered.

A sweet kind of warmth was glowing inside of her, as she watched him, and she remembered that other night so long ago, feeling bad for her former self. Sleeping in fully-clothed Booth's arms on a couch? Going to bed with naked Booth? No comparison. No comparison at all.

She offered him her hand.

"Come here."

"What? Why?"

"Let's take a shower."

"A shower? Booones, I am already wet."

"You're cold-wet. Let's get you warm-wet."

He grumbled in protest, but took her hand nonetheless, following her on unsteady legs. Since the bright ceiling light hurt his eyes, she lit up a candle, and the flame flickered cozily in the rainy night. Soon, the rich scent of vanilla was filling the air, and under the hot spray, they stood in a tight embrace, getting warm. She was kissing him, his wet shoulder, his full lips, and if his legs hadn't felt so unreliable, he might have pinned her to the wall like the man he was. So he just held her, held her close to his chest, his lips finding rainy lashes and downy cheeks, his whole being focused on her.

They kissed almost lazily, and Booth felt content and safe in a way that reminded him of very early childhood days long before everything had gone so terribly wrong.

Home... it was more than a house, a place to be. It was her.

His head dropped onto her shoulder with a happy sigh, and she stroked his back with soapy hands.

"You wanna go to bed?"

"Yeah."

"Then come."

He was in a drowsy state of bliss, as she dried first him and then herself with the towel; as she blew out the candle and led him to their bedroom.

Their bed was soft and comfortable, and when she crawled into his arms, it was even softer and more comfortable. He could feel her breasts against his chest, her damp curls on his shoulder, and he was pretty sure that his grin stretched to the Mississippi. His palm found the small of her back, fingers drawing lazy patterns, and she hummed languidly.

Her lips landed on his stubbly cheek for a soft kiss.

"This is the best kind of fantasy," she finally murmured sleepily, and he caressed her brow with his mouth.

"Falling asleep?"

"Going home with you."

"Aw, Bones. You are... you are..."

She didn't find out what she was since he was already dozing off, but she didn't really care that much because she could feel everything she was, everything they were right here in this room.

And, so very, very close to him, she followed him to the land of dreams. The good kind of dreams, where nothing did hurt.

-BONES-

Booth awoke to the mild light of dawn tickling his nose. His mouth felt fuzzy somehow and dull headache was knocking at his temples, but the best remedy was lying right in front of him, curled up on her side.

She was using his arm as a pillow, and his eyes followed the curve of her shoulder. Her hair was a mess of curls, dried overnight, and her skin was shimmering so very fair in the early morning light. An onrush of tenderness and love whooshed through his body, centering deep in his belly. It was a sweet kind of all-consuming longing, and, once more, she was the remedy.

Pushing some curls away, he kissed her neck, inhaling the familiar morning scent of her.

"I love you," he told her sleeping form, and she mumbled incoherently.

He moved closer until his whole body was spooning her from behind, one hand splayed out on her belly, and she snuggled into his embrace. His fingers started to move, carefully, and then his thumb reached that triangle of short curls, brushing over it. She sighed in sleep. Getting bolder, he let his fingers travel between her legs, stroking her ever so gently, and, still, she did not stir, but some part of him did.

"Bones," he whispered into her hair, and, finally, her breath pattern changed, and he knew that she was awake.

Turning her around and rolling on top of her happened in one swift move, and unfocused blue eyes were open for him to see.

"Good morning," he smiled, and she spread her legs to accommodate him.

"Booth... Why are you awake?" she murmured drowsily, and he nestled between her thighs.

"I love you," he simply said before pushing into her oh so slowly.

Her eyes glazed over in pleasure, as her mouth opened on a silent cry. Her mind was still foggy, her body pliant and sleepy, and she was helpless against the sudden onslaught of sensations. He stretched her with his whole length, so warm and hard inside of her, and her legs opened for him even further, as her arms clutched his back.

"Booth..."

"Just relax and enjoy," he whispered, and she closed her eyes, as he rocked in and out of her.

Sweet friction was building, heat gathering low in her belly... and his weight on top of her, his movements inside of her, his terms of endearment around her...

It was so much, so very much. And he was everything.

She shattered with a soft cry, pulsating strongly around him, and he watched her; watched her falling apart, watched her coming down. And when she opened her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes, they were still drowsy, only different.

It was too much, just too much. Because, to him, _she_ was everything as well.

Inside of her, he hardened even further, and then, with one long stroke, he came for her, her name on his lips.

And when they fell asleep again, helplessly entangled in each other, his head on her shoulder, it was neither fantasy nor reality. It was just them; somewhere in the middle, making it real.

The best thing about fantasy nights? They did not end in the morning.

Nothing had to end ever again.

To be continued.


	7. Beauty in a Dress

VII. Beauty in a Dress

Technically, it was past bedtime, but his daughter and his... _Brennan's dad_ had such a good time together that Booth didn't have the heart to insist on bedtime. Tugging at his bow-tie, he thought about his ties to Christine grandfather. The man who was currently assembling chairs and blankets in their living-room to build a hut for his little girl.

Father-in-law... Would he ever call that old crook "father-in-law"? Booth liked Max, he truly did, but "father-in-law" was such a normal label for an extraordinary man like him. But then again, so was "grandfather", and, oh boy, how did the old man like that title!

Heading towards the stairs, Booth took two steps at a time, thinking about the other thing that "father-in-law" implied. His spouse's father. Faith had always been his strongest suit, but, this time, he didn't even need that much faith. He knew Bones, and he knew that, one day, she'd want to have it all. With him. She might not go down on her knee – or both of them – but she'd do it. One day. Ask him or, a smile played around his lips, demand it. After all, she had dreamed it. She had written that dream for him long before they'd even spoken about love. It was just a matter of time.

He turned around the corner, and she came into sight. Stilling in the door frame, he just watched her for one moment. Booth knew that he was a good-looking man, and even though he couldn't help but feel ridiculous in a tux, he knew that it suited him. Still, seeing her dressed up would always, always reduce some parts of him to a teenage boy, one who didn't know about beauty, yet.

Right now, beauty itself was sitting in front of him; clad in a simple black dress that left her pale shoulders free, that hugged her curves in just the right places. Her dark hair was pinned up, long earrings dangling next to her slender neck, and her hands were fumbling with the clasp of a silvery necklace.

He crossed the room in three long strides.

"Let me."

She gave him the piece of jewelry and tilted her head.

"I hate to waste one of our babysitter nights on this," she complained, and he closed the necklace, his fingers brushing her delicate skin in the process.

"It's not that bad," he murmured, his gaze caressing her face in the mirror.

Brennan cast up her eyes, bright blue under heavy lashes.

"Booth, you hate events like this."

He poked one of her earrings with his fingertip, watching its movements.

"I'm not really a fan of your fancy Jeffersonian fundraiser parties, but some things aren't half bad."

She got up, smoothing her dress.

"Which things?"

"You. Food. Wine. You. Your dress. Squints pretending to be real people. Did I mention your dress?"

Pulling her lip between her teeth, she ogled him suspiciously.

"I don't know if I should be pleased about the compliment or insulted."

He opened his arms with a chuckle, holding her in a loose embrace. Without her shoes, she was a few inches smaller, and Booth pressed his cheek to her hair.

"I'm always here to please you."

She snorted, but her irritation didn't last long, as the familiarity of his hug carried her away. Even in a tux, she could see him building a tree house, could recall his Sunday morning stubble and hockey practice. Tonight, he looked more distinguished, but she loved every layer of him.

Pulling away just a bit, she looked up at him.

"Maybe we can sneak away after an hour."

"Ah, dunno, I'm in the mood to show off with you."

Lifting herself onto her tiptoes, she whispered into his ear.

"This could have been a different kind of night."

He swayed her gently.

"Do you have something particular in mind?"

"I don't know. It's your turn..."

Cupping her chin, he sought her gaze.

"_I know_."

There was a hunch of something in his voice, something that sent shivers down her spine, and she pressed her lips to his ever so lightly. Warm lips. Glossy lips.

"Don't wanna ruin your make-up," he murmured, but her mouth opened nonetheless, inviting him in.

One arm around her waist, one hand lingering on her cheek, he kissed her, slowly but deeply. She tasted faintly like toothpaste, and his stomach tingled in anticipation at the knowledge that, just a few hours from now, he would be allowed to muss up her hair, to peel her out of that beautiful dress. And, maybe, she would taste like good wine and excitement.

"Bones..."

She sighed contently in his arms, releasing him with one last kiss, using her thumb to remove the smeared lipstick on his mouth.

"We should get ready."

"I am ready. I've been for quite some time, Bones."

She grinned.

"Is there a hidden double meaning?"

"No need to hide something."

He smiled, a smile that reached his eyes, and Brennan wanted to kiss him again, but the sound of their doorbell interrupted the moment.

"Tempe? Booth? Your friends are here."

"Here's our ride."

It felt strangely like prom night, the prom she had never had, Brennan mused, as she walked down the stairs on Booth's arm, the hem of her dress falling softly around her knees. It _still_ felt like prom night, when Max insisted on taking a picture, and the old man had to bite his tongue not to say, "Have her home by eleven."

He watched the four of them walking into the evening sun, the girl on his hip waving goodbye like only very small children can do, and a sudden rush of gratitude weakened his knees. Turning his head, Max pressed his lips to his granddaughter's silky hair.

"Look at your mommy. You're a very lucky girl."

"Mommy," Christine repeated, waving some more. "Daddy?"

"Yes, yes, that's a piece of luck as well."

His eyes felt watery somehow, and he blinked a few times, thinking about another woman, a different Christine. Thinking about rights and wrongs and things that were meant to be. Deciding, finally, that he was way too old for cloying sentimentality but not too old to build a hut out of some blankets.

-BONES-

The party was exquisite. Exquisite food, exquisite wine, exquisite guests, an exquisite estate. It was boring as hell.

An older squint with mole-like glasses had claimed Brennan about half an hour ago, but from his place at the bar, Booth could watch her, could admire the elegant curve of her neck, the way her bare shoulders shimmered in the dim light. She was by far the most beautiful being in the whole room. _His_ beautiful being.

Some years ago, he might have felt out place, might have sought courage in a drink or, worse, even might have left. Some years ago, he had been a fool. This was part of her world, but it wasn't her whole world, and even though it would never be his, he fit into it. He fit into it because she was here and she wanted to have him by her side. _By her side!_

Squaring his shoulders, Booth set himself in motion, approaching the group of people around Brennan. His hand found the small of her back on a will of its own, and she turned around. As soon as she recognized him, the frozen smile on her face turned into a real one.

"Booth!"

"Gentlemen, excuse me, I need Dr. Brennan for a minute."

A few nods later, she followed him willingly, squeezing his arm.

"Thank you."

"I wasn't sure if you needed to be rescued. You didn't look too happy."

"Dr. Abraham is an important investor but not an inspiring conversationist."

He chuckled.

"He looks like a mole."

She frowned.

"Are you referring to his near-sightedness?"

"He sure as hell is a real squint."

"I'm confused. Is he a squint or a mole? You should stick to one simile, Booth."

His laughter deepened.

"My Bones. Dance with me?"

"I can dance."

"I know you can."

It wasn't exactly dance music, but some couples were swaying on the floor nonetheless, Angela and Hodgins being one of them. Booth winked at them before pulling Brennan close, and, soon, they were lost in the gentle melody. Her feet were following the rhythm he dictated, and dancing with Booth felt as natural as breathing.

Her head came to rest on his shoulder, and Brennan shut her eyes, surrendering herself to the dance. The spicy scent of his aftershave surrounded her, and she liked the fact that, despite the tux and the formality of the evening, he had chosen his everyday aftershave, the one she knew. Inhaling deeply, she buried her nose in his shoulder.

"Bones?"

"Hmm?"

His fingers followed the curve of her spine until they nestled right between her shoulder blades, the warmth of his hand on her bare skin.

"Earlier today you said that this night could have been a different one."

She hummed once again, emphasizing it with a nod.

"Do you even know that this is a pretty good fantasy for me?"

"The Jeffersonian fundraiser event? You're a cheap date," came her dry reply, and he smiled into her hair.

"Ever since we first met, I've seen you going to events like this, dressed to the nines."

"Part of my job."

"I know, and, don't get me wrong, Bones, I take pizza night with you over this any day, but..."

His voice trailed off.

"Whenever I saw you in one of your beautiful dresses... I wanted to be part of your world."

"Booth... You are... my world."

Her words softened his insides, and he tightened his hold on her just a bit.

"I can't even remember the first time, but I do remember the feeling. The swoosh of dizziness. I knew that I was falling for you. Big time. And that I shouldn't. I have that picture in my mind of you walking away... wearing a dress similar to this one."

He brushed the expensive material with his fingertips.

"And I wanted to follow you. I wanted to make sure that nobody would touch you."

"Nobody except for you?" she whispered, and he pressed his cheek to hers.

"Let's settle on 'nobody' for a start. I didn't know what to do about this. I could handle you in the field and I knew that you could kick my ass, but seeing you as a woman..."

He sighed.

"You were too good for me."

Raising one hand, she caressed his smooth cheek.

"You are the best man I know," she stated with sincerity, and, maybe, that was the best part. Her unwavering trust in him.

"After a while, I could cope with your intellect and your wealth. But I needed some time to get used to your beauty," he admitted.

"You do know that you weren't the only one feeling inferior, don't you?" she finally whispered.

"Huh?"

"The strength of your emotions, Booth. You were feeling things I had no idea about. I wanted to learn, but I didn't know if I could..."

"You could. You did."

Lifting her head from its safe place, she finally looked at him, and the raw emotions in his eyes tightened her throat.

"So beautiful," he whispered, and, once again, she felt like prom night. Only better...

They were still moving somehow, almost dancing, but he couldn't stop gazing into her eyes, and, suddenly, it was like that first time over and over again.

_You look nice. Better than nice, you look, uh... very..._

He saw the jewelry he had put around her neck earlier, noticed some lines around her eyes which hadn't been there eight years ago, and that made it real, but she was still some kind of enchanted being, a dazzling star that had fallen into his life.

Booth stopped pretending to be dancing, dragging her with him, as he left the dance floor. In the rear end of the hall, some kind of terrace led down to the rose garden, and silvery moonlight bathed everything in some kind of ethereal glow. It was almost too beautiful to bear.

In the second row of roses, the party being nothing but a distant memory, he crushed her in his arms, wrinkling her gorgeous dress, wrinkling his tux, but, far away from caring, she returned the hug wholeheartedly, and longing opened its soft petals.

"Booth," she whispered, and, turning his head, he sought her lips, seeking and finding them, drinking from her in the moonlight.

"I know that I'm... fairly beautiful. But I've never felt it. Until you came. You... you make me beautiful."

He shook his head while peppering tiny kiss along her jawline.

"You just are."

Brennan thought about roses and how they looked even better in the right light, thought how he was that kind of light for her. Laughing out, she finally shook her head.

"I'm not that kind of woman."

"What kind of woman?"

"The one who whispers romantic sentiments behind rose bushes at midnight."

Looking around, he smiled at her.

"Evidence says, you are."

She shook her head one more time, but her hand palmed the back of his head, leaning in for another kiss.

"That's your fault."

Under her lips, she could feel his smile... and then she could feel a whole lot more, as his hands slid under her dress, stroking the back of her thighs.

"Booth..."

"Yes? You wanna whisper more romantic sentiments?"

"Shut up."

And he did shut up, mainly because her tongue was doing tantalizing things to his, and why should he even waste his breath on talking, when she was kissing him like that? In the moonlit night, his senses were on full alert, and he could hear the rustling sound of her dress, as he nudged one knee between hers, could hear the wind whispering in the rose bushes. She tasted like cinnamon and wine, and she smelled even better, sweet and feminine.

His body reacted to her, like it always did and always would, and her little moan told him that she had noticed it as well.

Breaking the kiss, she looked at him with wide eyes, a beautiful blush covering her cheeks.

"Is this real?" she asked breathlessly, and he traced her swollen lips with his fingertip. As soft as a rose petal.

"You wanna check for unicorns?"

"Booth..."

She slapped him unceremoniously, and he chuckled.

"This is you and me, Baby. Just some fancy version of us. Come."

Taking her hand, he guided her to a nearby bench, sitting down on the dew-covered surface. She was standing in front of him, and he pulled her between his legs, burying his face in her soft midsection. Seconds later, Booth could feel her fingers in his hair, and he sighed in contentment.

Without speaking, he palmed her knee, following the soft path of her inner thigh with his hand, and, as he reached the juncture of her legs, she closed her eyes on a shuddered breath. His fingers brushed over satin... and slipped underneath it, finding something even better than satin, and, maybe, she was more romantic than he gave her credit for because his fingers slipped easily into her molten heat. This night had affected her as well.

Inhaling deeply, she spread her legs just a little bit further, and her fingers traveled from his hair to his chest until she could feel his hard nipples underneath the crispy dress shirt. Her world was spinning somehow, maybe it was the wine, and everything zoomed in on his hand between her legs.

There was moonlight, there were roses, and, in the faraway distance, there was soft dance music lingering in the air, but right here, right now, it was only him and her.

And, just when she thought it couldn't get any better, it stopped. A moan of protest escaped her lips, but he was already opening his pants, pulling her onto his lap. Her knees on either side of him, she reached between her legs, tugging her panties aside, sinking down on him in one fluid move.

He gasped, but the end of his gasp met her lips, as they slanted down on his, connecting with him in every way possible. His hands fluttered helplessly over her back until he cupped her buttocks, pushing himself even deeper into her snug body.

Her warmth enveloped him completely, and she shivered on top of him.

"Cold?"

"No..."

He wrapped her into his arms nonetheless, and her head landed in the crook of his neck, as she began to rock. Their movements were gentle, as enchanted as the night surrounding them, and, still, she wore that beautiful dress; a dress that reminded him of vague desires and old times.

"Bones?"

"Yes?"

"They can look, but they cannot touch. Never. Nobody. Nobody else is allowed to touch you like this."

Her arms clutched him fiercely, and her inner muscles clenched briefly at the possessiveness in his tone.

"You know that," she just said, not knowing if she was talking to the man he was or the man he used to be, and he pushed himself into her just a few inches deeper.

"You are mine."

She gasped, throwing her head back, and there were so many things wrong with his statement, but it felt right, so right.

"Yes," she finally said, "yes, yes, yes."

And then her world was splintering in the moonlight, as she trembled above him, and he held her and trembled with her.

Roses were their witnesses, as she finally stilled in his arms, breathing in the afterglow of love, breathing in him, and he sought her lips anew, unspoken tenderness lingering in his kiss.

Finally, she started to laugh, that throaty kind of laughter he loved so much, and he regarded her with a puzzled expression on his face.

"On second thought, we did not waste our babysitter night completely," she finally said between giggles, and he held her close, smiling into her hair.

"I told you, fundraiser thingies aren't half bad."

"You certainly found a way to work around the boring parts."

He looked up at her, taking in her radiant smile, her slightly disheveled hair, and bittersweet memories faded away at the sight of the real woman on top of him. He might have missed some chances, but what are missed chances compared to the ones he had not missed?

They were nothing... just a whisper in the night.

To be continued.

_Bones is back tomorrow!_


	8. The World in a Trailer

VIII. The World in a Trailer

"Bones, don't you think this is just a little bit too much?"

Dropping his bag, Booth let his eyes roam over the scenery in front of him, taking in the contradiction of hurly-burly and barrenness. The bag hit the dust next to his feet, fine freckles of gray dotting his otherwise shiny shoes.

"No. Why?"

There was a tent, huge and yellow, and he could spot at least twenty colorful trailers adorning the area. The woman beside him looked oddly thrilled, and he was pretty sure that, for once, reliving a sexual fantasy was not the sole reason for her excitement.

"Bones, this is a real circus."

"I know. I found it," Brennan announced proudly.

"I can't even imagine how you managed to talk them into this."

Tilting her head, she avoided his eyes.

"Well... they opened up once I mentioned a donation."

"You're paying them?"

"Not... exactly."

Shaking his head, he rolled up his sleeves.

"A circus..."

"Animal-free, of course. Holding animals captive in a circus is just not right. Look, Booth."

Tugging at his arm, Brennan turned him around, pointing out one special trailer in the cheerful settlement, and his jaw dropped open.

"You got _our_ trailer?"

One proud nod.

"The _original_ one?"

Another nod, even prouder.

Booth covered his eyes with one palm, squinting through his fingers.

"Do I wanna know what you told the FBI to get it?"

"Don't be so tense, I did the reasonable thing."

"And that would be...?"

"I lied. This is book research, Booth. Or shall I say... Buck?"

She winked at him, actually winked, and he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close with a laugh.

"Just so you know, I'm not gonna throw knives at you."

"We can discuss our performance later."

"No knives, Bones. I'm not very keen to explain to our daughter that I accidentally stabbed her mom."

"You won't kill me. Your motoric skills are high above average."

"I can't believe that you're sweet-talking me into throwing knives at you. Sharp knives."

"Does it work?"

"Nope."

"Maybe just a little?"

"Forget it. Bones, no," he whined. "You cannot give me the sad eyes because of some knives. That's ridiculous and mean! You're a very mean woman!"

Her bottom lip trembled, and she added a little pout to her pleading gaze.

Covering his eyes, he marched in the direction of their trailer, and she hurried to follow.

"Not looking, Bones, not looking."

"Okay, if you refuse to perform the 'Knives of Death', I'm gonna go with my salto on the high wire."

"Yeah, because it is so much better telling Christine that her mother died while being totally reckless."

"Booth..."

"Stupid costumes? Fine. Sex in a trailer? Hell yes! Getting you in danger? Nope."

"Booth..."

"No. End of the argument."

-BONES-

"Ladies and gentlemen, be prepared for Boris and Natasha and their Russian knives of death!"

Roaring applause greeted them, and Booth blinked against the bright spotlight. His mustache was tickling, as was the fake fur of his cape. He was holding Brennan's hand in a wide gesture, and through their joined fingers, he could feel her excitement pouring into him.

Maybe it was because they had done it before, maybe it was because now he knew that she actually was spontaneous in bed, maybe he just loved her so much more than he had already done back then. Whatever it was, her feelings were almost palpable, rubbing off on him.

A smile for her, one bow for the audience.

"Da!" he roared, opening his cape to show the knives on his belt.

This was stupid, this was dangerous, and, for the love of God, he had no clue how she actually had been able to persuade him, but here he was with his heart running a mile a minute, ready to use the woman he loved as a target. At least as ready as he could ever be.

Brennan was bustling around, freeing him from the heavy fur, and in her red excuse of a costume, she was the spit 'n' image of her former self. Well, there was no eye patch this time, and maybe her hips were a little bit wider, her breasts a little bit heavier after the baby, but there was the same old gleam in her eyes.

She loved this. And he loved her.

Drum roll filled the air, and the audience stilled, holding one collective breath. Brennan positioned herself in the middle of the pinned balloons, trying not to tremble, and then her eyes locked with his, and the intensity in his gaze left her breathless.

So far, everything had been just like back then, only better because it was a fantasy and there hadn't been a fatality. This... this however was different. She felt almost naked under his gaze and she could sense his fear, his despair.

_Oh Booth, I'm sorry..._

But then the air was hissing, as knives flew by, hitting each and every balloon without as much as grazing her, and, still, he was looking at her, holding her captive with his powerful eyes.

She didn't even register the cheering audience.

There was just Booth or Buck or Boris; whoever he was, he was mesmerizing her.

Taking a deep breath, she retrieved the apple, and his gaze got even darker.

Her body was humming, so alive, so vibrating, and Brennan didn't know how she could even stand motionless, but she could. She could and she trusted him, trusted him, trusted him. She wanted to kiss his hands, his hands that were throwing knives he didn't want to throw in the first place, she wanted him to press the cold blade of the knife against her skin, she wanted to arouse him and soothe him.

And then the apple was hit right above her head, and her knees turned to jelly.

More applause she did not hear in her daze.

His eyes asked a silent question and, finally giving in, she nodded briefly, signaling that it was enough. Within a heartbeat, he was by her side, pulling the knife out and throwing the apple into the cheering audience. And then he kissed her, lips and tongues and everything, right there in the middle of the circus ring, the dull side of the knife grazing the tender skin of her cheek.

Her shiver was lost in the thundering applause.

His angst was lost in her trembling body.

-BONES-

They went back to their trailer with hands firmly clasped.

Alive, alive, alive. His brain was holding fast onto that one thought. She was alive, so alive, stumbling behind him, so alive, more than alive.

Opening the door of their trailer, he dragged her inside, and, not bothering with the light, he simply pushed her onto the table.

"Don't move," he ordered, and his voice was deeper than usual.

In the dim light of the circus evening, she could see a reflection on the blade, and then the cold metal touched her thigh, sliding right under her costume and cutting through it on one single gasp.

"You never gonna wear that again, you hear me?"

She nodded wordlessly, and he parted the satiny fabric, revealing creamy skin.

Positioning the knife anew, he made short process with her pantyhose, tickling her calf without hurting her.

"I'm never ever gonna do this again. I'm so mad that you made me do this. I cannot throw knives at you, I do not gamble anymore and the stake is just too high, Bones, just too high. I do not care if we're undercover or if you like it, I cannot do this," he urged.

She was lying in front of him in nothing but a black bra and panty set, and, lifting her hand, she caressed his cheek.

"I trust you, Booth."

"Yeah, fine, trust me, Baby, but I _do not_ trust myself. Not when _you_ are my target."

"You did well."

"I do not negotiate inches when it comes to you. Inches, Bones! No knives anywhere near your soft skin, you hear me?"

Nodding, she brought herself to a sitting position, reaching for his belt. The remaining knives were clanging under her touch, and she pulled them out, dropping them to the floor.

"No more knives," she promised while opening his pants in one swift move, pulling at his suspenders. "Just you and me."

"Who are we?" he asked just a tad breathlessly, and she blinked under dark and heavy eyelids.

"Whoever you want us to be."

He took a deep breath and watched her for one luxurious moment, just watched her. Some curls had come undone, dancing around her face, and her big eyes looked even brighter under dark layers of make-up and more. Her breasts were almost spilling over the cups of her simple bra, curves enticing him to touch them.

She was disguised but not at the same time, she was Wanda and Brennan and everything in between.

Reaching behind her, he undid the clasp of her bra, drinking in the sight of her bare chest.

"Your breasts were driving me nuts in that costume," he admitted, covering them with both hands, rubbing his rough thumbs over her sensitive nipples.

"Tonight or back then?" she managed to utter, and he squeezed boldly, causing her to gasp.

"Both times."

Not one to be passive, she unfastened the clips of his suspenders, and the already opened pants slid down his legs, revealing toned thighs and a very prominent bulge in his dark boxers.

Cupping him, she looked up at him with parted lips.

"You're impressive," she whispered, her tongue darting out to moisten her bottom lip. "Being strong and calm, throwing knives... I admire your self-control."

The hand touching him applied gentle pressure, and, with a groan, he rocked into her palm, laughing out.

"Self-control, huh?"

"Not now because you know you don't need it. But... yes. You have a way to control your power that leaves me breathless..."

Her fingers were moving over his hard length, teasing and arousing, and his strength made her weak in her knees – thank God she was already sitting – sending a rush of wetness to her core.

A face so pale and dark, lips so full and red, and then he was kissing her, sinking into her kiss, drinking from her until her taste was his. In a tangle of lips and tongues and limbs, she managed to pull the muscle shirt over his head, and he used the knife one last time, removing her soaked panties with a final cut that aroused her even more. Boxers were shed as well, and then it was just skin; skin discovering skin, bodies caressing each other.

Spreading her legs, she wrapped her calves around his back, the cheap table creaking under their passion.

"Hold on," he demanded, and she clung to him, as she was lifted; still clung to him as he lowered her to the mattress.

His mouth on her neck, he moved down her body, licking and sucking her, leaving marks behind that neither of them could bother to care about. Kissing her wrists, swallowing the soft flesh of her breasts; and then his fingers were between her legs, rubbing over hot flesh slick with her desire for him.

"Oh God, I want you," she panted, and two fingers pushed deep into her body, making her cry out.

"Whom?" he asked between licks and kisses, and she rolled her head around on the pillow.

"All of them. Just you..."

Moving upwards, he found her lips anew, meeting her greedy kiss, and he could feel her wetness where his body was flush to hers.

"More! More..."

Cupping the back of her thigh, he opened her even further, and, without much ado, aligning himself.

"Open your eyes."

Smoky eyelids flew open, pale blue glazing over in amazement, as he entered her body, joining them in one mighty stroke. Her head flew back.

"Yes..."

In the distance, a cannon could be heard, and it was both strange and not that they were here again, once more joined in this tiny trailer, doing things both of them had only dared to dream about the last time.

And he was thrusting into her, hard and fast. Moving out of her, slowly and controlled. And pushing back in.

Her nails were digging into his back, probably leaving their very own marks behind, and their gasps and moans were lost in the circus buzz surrounding them. It was a trailer, but it became their world, and as sweat covered his brow, as self-control abandoned him, it was both a faraway day in the past and a night in the present.

She thought about knives, thought about him, and then she could see the spotlight once again, as it was exploding deep inside of her, sending jolts of electricity through her system. And she embraced him with trembling limbs, her body coming down from its high, as he reached his, the tiny trailer filled with the musky scent of fantasy and sex.

-BONES-

Darkness had fallen outside their trailer, outside their world, but the night air carried music and voices and laughter. Splayed out on his back, he held her in the crook of his arm, her head resting on his broad chest.

Their bodies had long cooled down, their breathings returned to normal, and he caressed her soft skin with his fingertips.

"Hmm... We did it," she hummed, snuggling up to him with a smile. "Was that what you wanted to do back then?"

He chuckled.

"To Wanda? Yes. To you? No. I always only wanted to love you, you know? Kinda soft and sweet... just like you secretly are. No crazy knives involved."

"Buck and Wanda, Booth and Brennan... it was hard to tell the difference after a while, wasn't it?"

"Nah. You're rational. Funny and cute and adventurous, but still rational. Wanda... Wanda was something."

"That last night, Booth..."

"When we had no reason to stay but stayed nonetheless?"

"Yes. Why did we stay anyways?"

"Because it was a dream. A time-out. And we didn't want it to end."

"I accept your logic."

Tilting her head, she kissed his stubbly cheek.

"I really loved sharing this trailer with you, Bones. This bed."

"Hmm... You're a very good sleep companion."

"You were adorable. That last night... You were lying here, your hair a mess, make-up all smudgy. You were Wanda but Bones." He sighed. "I had a hard time keeping my hands to myself."

"Why did you?" she finally whispered, and he shrugged.

"I guess I wanted you too much. Kinda scary."

"Well, you have me now."

"Soft and sweet and loving?"

"And whatever else you want."

She turned around in his arms, her hand disappearing under the blanket, and, with joy written all over his face, he caught her lips anew, gentler this time. And when their bodies came together for the second time that night, it was slow and all-consuming and tender.

She was moving above him, and he cradled her like the precious treasure she was. Her body was shimmering like ivory in the paleness of the night, and, around them, a circus was packed up, travelers resuming their journey.

Leaving behind two people that didn't have to travel anymore, that had arrived, had found the best place ever in each other.

A place where they could live wide without disguise.

A place that was just them. Whoever they decided to be.

To be continued...


	9. The One Who Knew

IX. The One Who Knew

"Dada!"

Reaching for the couch table, the girl pulled her weight upwards, standing on chubby legs. One blink later, the table was forgotten, and Christine headed towards her father, hugging his knee with a squeal of delight. Like so many other toddlers, she had made the transition from "first steps" to "running" within the blink of an eye, and Booth felt his chest bursting with pride every time his tiny daughter approached him with outstretched arms.

Bending down, he picked her up, throwing the girl into the air and catching her shortly after, her giggles soothing everything inside of him that had ever been dark and hopeless. Little palms patted his face, and he caught some fingers with his lips, sucking and blowing raspberries at once. More giggles followed.

"You know, Christine, there's something Mommy and Daddy have to do today."

"Mommy!"

"Yeah. Where's Mommy?"

"Mommy?"

"Upstairs, huh? Is somebody breaking the rules and working on a Saturday?"

The girl on his hip, he danced towards the stairs.

"You wanna go upstairs yourself?"

Christine wriggled in his arms, and he put her down, watching how she climbed step after step in a crawling manner.

"I guess you have to grow some more before you can actually walk upstairs, huh?"

The child babbled something adults could never understand and continued to take step after step. Booth watched her some moments before scooping her up again, soothing her protest with some quick jumps. The child in his arms, he checked the rooms on the upper floor in a cop-like manner, causing his daughter to shout with glee.

Finally, in the bedroom, he got lucky, finding the frame of his woman hidden halfway under the bed.

"FBI, don't move."

Brennan froze, but only for one second, before she raised her tousled head, giving him a glare.

"Funny. Very funny, Booth."

Christine giggled some more, waving her arms enthusiastically.

"Fa-nie!"

Putting down the child, he ogled Brennan.

"What are you doing there? We don't have corpses under the bed."

"I know, unlike you, I do clean here every now and then."

"Ouch, that was low."

"That was true."

Deciding not to comment on her accusation, he tilted his head.

"You're cleaning now?"

"No, I'm looking for my earring. The ones you gave me for Christmas. One is missing."

Apparently, the carpet under the dresser had caught Christine's attention, and with his daughter occupied, Booth turned to Brennan, registering the frown of distress on her face.

"You checked the pillows? You know, last time-"

"I did check the pillows, and, by the way, last time was your fault since you lured me into bed before I got the chance to undress properly."

One eyebrow arched up.

"You did not complain."

Faced with his smile, her anger crumbled.

"There was nothing to complain about."

Blue met brown, as memories were revisited, as memories took over, clouding the present. The sound of their coughing daughter brought them back to reality, and Booth turned around just in time to watch the earring, the lost one, the found one, disappearing in the tiny mouth.

"No! Christine!"

The baby stilled, the frown he knew so well from her mother twisting the little face.

"Give me the earring. That's Mommy's."

Outstretching one hand, the child handed the earring over to him without protest, and he gave her one beaming smile.

"Look at you, Christine, you found Mommy's earring."

Gurgling noises from the carpet, and then Brennan got up, accepting the piece of jewelry.

"Thanks. And thank you."

One blink later, the earring was back in its usual place, dangling somewhere between silky curls, and Booth brushed some of them away to appreciate the view.

"Gorgeous," he murmured, his usual Saturday smile firmly in place.

Unable to help herself, she grazed his lips with her own.

"We should really be more careful. She's getting too mobile."

"Hey, I'm not the one who lost an earring."

"Sorry, my bad. But since we both know how much you like wearing earrings..."

Booth caught her off guard, and the moment the squeal left her lips, her back already hit the mattress and he was flat on top of her. He grunted, but only briefly, before his mouth slanted down on hers. On the floor, the baby turned her head in vague interest, deciding to focus on the carpet below her shortly after. After all, her parents doing funny things wasn't new to her.

Christine Angela Brennan-Booth knew some things about adults: They were tall. They had the good food. They decided when a day was over. And they were into hugs and kisses.

Same old, same old.

-BONES-

Lance Sweets was confused, and, as a psychologist, he didn't do well with confusion. The depths of the human psyche were his field of expertise, and he enjoyed his job, he truly did. He didn't consider himself nosy by nature, but there had to be a certain curiosity to drive you.

Curiosity was what had drawn him to Booth and Brennan in the first place. Her hyper-rationalism stood in contradiction to his intuition, but what should have been a disadvantage, had always worked for them, had resulted in strength and understanding. They complemented each other in every way, always had. Over the years, both of them had opened up for the respective other, but the balance of their partnership had remained the same.

Even the transition to a romantic relationship hadn't endangered their equilibrium, and, once again, they were stronger as a couple, as parents, than they had ever been alone.

Sweets still missed his favorite patients, but he considered himself lucky to be their partner, their friend even. He still gave friendly advice every now and then, but he hadn't seen the two of them together in his office in ages.

Hadn't. But would soon. Booth's call earlier today had caught him by surprise, and Sweets wondered about the reason behind this meeting.

He didn't do well with confusion.

-BONES-

"Why do we have to see Sweets?"

"Just humor me, Bones."

"But why? Can't we skip this and move straight to the sex?" she suggested huskily.

Booth laughed out, but shook his head at her hopeful expression.

"Bones, think about the first six years of our partnership."

She nodded one second later.

"I have."

"Think harder."

"My brain works fairly quick."

"Alright. In those six years, was there ever a moment when we skipped the hard stuff to move straight to the sex?"

Her brow furrowed.

"I get your point."

"Sweets is part of the story. At least of this chapter."

"What do you intend to tell him?"

"Anything but the truth, Bones, anything but the truth."

She ogled him with a question mark written all over her face.

"We won't tell him that he's part of a fantasy," he clarified, and a devilish smirk played around her lips.

"We might traumatize him."

"Don't sound so happy! You're an evil woman, Bones!"

She laughed out, linking arms with him.

"I'll behave. I promise."

-BONES-

Sweets could hear the two partners before they even knocked, their easy banter betraying their presence, like it had so often back then.

Putting on his serious work face, he awaited their knock, but the door opened without warning. Some things would never change.

"Hey Sweets."

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan."

"Thanks for seeing us on such a short notice."

"No prob. I mean, sure. How can I help you?"

Booth and Brennan took a seat on the couch, and under their combined attention, Sweets suddenly felt like his twelve-year-old self once again. Clearing his throat, he straightened his back.

"Remember the day when we came here to tell you that your book was crap?" Booth started without preamble, and Sweets flinched as if he had been slapped. His book, the book that had never been published. It still hurt his pride.

"Yeah." How could he possibly forget that?

"We have some unresolved issues," Booth stated sincere enough, but Brennan could barely hide her grin. What was this about?

"Okay..."

"You told me to gamble one more time."

"I remember."

Booth braced his elbows on his thighs.

"Why?"

"Why? Seriously?" Sweets' gaze flew from Booth to Brennan and back. The agent nodded.

"Yeah, why?"

The psychologist shrugged with a sigh.

"You were in a stalemate. In love with each other but too afraid to act upon it. Something needed to happen," Sweets answered urgently, recalling the surreal evening more than three years ago.

"You _do_ remember what happened afterwards?"

Brennan's clear voice had lost its smile, and Sweets nodded carefully, thinking about Maluku, Afghanistan and a piano man's tunes. A time when the world as he had known it had been falling apart.

"Obviously, something went wrong. May I ask... what happened after you left my office?"

Silence filled the room, turning something that was meant to be fun into something neither of them was fully prepared to deal with. Three years and one perfect baby later, it did still hurt. And fantasy crashed into reality...

"I took a gamble," Booth finally said.

"I lost," Brennan added.

Every good psychologist knows his time to stay silent, to wait for answers to present themselves, but, for the second time that day, Sweets felt nothing but confusion, as Booth got up.

"Thanks Sweets."

As always, Brennan followed her partner's lead, and before Sweets' mind could provide him with something smart, Booth and Brennan had reached the door.

"See you on Monday."

"Whoa! What? Wait!"

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Sweets."

The door closed, leaving behind one puzzled man who did not know what that meant.

-BONES-

_Nothing happens unless first a dream..._

The sign was still there, but unlike back then, it didn't taunt him anymore. Booth could see it clearly in his mind, the white of her coat, soft curls framing her sweet face. She had been beautiful, so beautiful; close enough to touch and too far away at the same time.

He had touched her, though. Had felt the pressure of her soft lips underneath his own, and for the briefest fraction of a moment, she had returned his kiss. Before everything and more had fallen apart.

Three years later, Booth turned to Brennan with a deep breath, taking her hand.

"I believe in giving this a shot."

Understanding dawned on her, and even though it was irrational, Brennan could feel a hunch of the old fear.

Afraid, she had been so afraid. Afraid to lose him. Afraid that she couldn't be what he needed, what he deserved.

"You mean us?"

Her own words came back to her without thinking, engraved in her mind like old scars, and, for some very long months, that was exactly what they had been. Scars. Pain. Regret.

Taking a deep and steadying breath, Brennan told herself that everything was fine, that they had a home, were a family, but, nonetheless, she felt moisture pooling in her eyes.

"I only ever wanted to protect you, Booth," she finally whispered.

"Me? From what?"

"From me! I don't have your kind of open heart."

Taking one step towards her, he took her face in both hands, looking into her pale blue eyes, seeing her tears.

"I know your heart, Bones. I know who you are, how much you can feel."

"Booth... I'm not a gambler, I'm a scientist. I can't change, I don't know how."

Old pain was bleeding in his heart, as he felt the cut her words had inflicted on him three years ago, and, suddenly, he knew what he should have said back then.

"Bones... I don't want you to change. I never wanted that. I only ever wanted you, just the way you are. I love you, oh God, I'm _so in love _with you."

Tears were falling freely now, and she didn't try to hide them.

"I cannot promise you forever," she finally choked out, and he gathered her in his arms, crushing her to his chest.

"Sh... I know. It's okay. Give me today, give me tomorrow. Step after step, Bones. Infinity starts with one first step."

Sniffling, she buried her face in his shoulder, wrapping her arms fiercely around his midsection.

"I'm so scared," she finally whispered in her child-like voice, but he heard her, and his hold on her tightened.

"Why?"

"I cannot lose you. You... you mean too much to me, Booth, way too much."

"You won't lose me, Babe, never ever. I'm in this for the long run. I _knew_, right from the beginning."

"What did you know?"

"I knew that I'd never seen something as blue as your eyes. I knew that I would happily spend the rest of my life arguing with you. I knew you'd drive me crazy. I knew you'd make me happy. You're the standard, Bones. Always."

Tears dampened his shirt, and he just held her in his arms, as some kind of weight was lifted from his soul.

"Booth?"

She raised her head, and the expression in her eyes stole his breath. So open, she was so damn open...

"Yeah?"

"I think... I knew, too."

And, finally, a smile brightened his whole face, a smile that hadn't been there three years ago, and, lowering his head, he kissed away her tears. Tears she had shed for the woman she had been, the man he had been. A mistake that had happened. Regret that had clouded her soul for so long. When, eventually, he reached her lips, she wasn't crying anymore, and, tilting her head, she met him halfway.

Lips so soft parted for him, inviting him in. He found acceptance where once resistance had been, and his palm cupped the back of her head as if to protect her.

They kissed for a long time, right there on the steps where he had once buried his dream, but, tonight, it wasn't a dream, it was real. Infinity had already begun, and neither of them knew who had changed and who hadn't – all they knew was that they fit and that life was better this way.

When they finally had to give in to the need for oxygen, they parted with a mutual smile, and he pressed his forehead to hers, unwilling to lose the connection.

"I never wanted to move on."

"I never wanted you to move on."

Then they kissed some more, just because they could, and time stilled. Time didn't matter, as her soft curls ran through his fingers, as her body molded so wonderfully into his arms.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to go home."

-BONES-

The house was quiet, as they arrived, Christine being in the care of their friends, and he didn't bother to switch on the light, as he took Brennan's hand, guiding her upstairs. Neither of them spoke, and the silent night possessed some kind of enchanted quality.

In the pale moonlight of their bedroom, they turned to each other again, shedding clothes without breaking eye contact, and even though he knew her body by heart, the milky-white skin of her caused his chest to overflow; even though she had studied him more carefully than anything else before, the symmetric structure of his body flooded her with deep longing.

Over the time of their relationship, Booth and Brennan had made love countless times, and they had had sex, breathless encounters on tables, against walls. Sometimes, they indulged in a fantasy, sometimes they needed to relieve stress; more often it was desire or the need to connect or just love.

There were so many things to find in each other, but, tonight, as they were standing there so bare in front of each other, she felt almost shy, and he was touched by sudden reverence.

What if, three years ago, they had tried for a different outcome? What if time had found them just like this in his old apartment or in her luxurious loft? A new situation, a foreign bedroom. Both of them knew that it could have happened, maybe even should have.

This was a first time both of them had dreamed about, and, as she brushed some strands of hair out of her face, she longed for his hands upon her skin as if she had never felt them before.

"Booth..."

Her voice was all he needed to close the gap to her, and, some heartbeats later, she was in his arms, feeling him skin to skin, breathing him in.

"I never wanted you to change, really. You believe me?"

She nodded slowly, her hands mapping his strong chest.

"I never wanted to hurt you. Booth... I love you. Loved you. So much..."

Then his mouth was on hers, gently at first, but it didn't take long until raw hunger consumed them. Teeth were scratching over lips, tongues tangled with each other, and, in the sweet softness of her mouth, he found more peace than he had ever dared to hope for. His hands slid down her back, cupping her buttocks, and then he lifted her, carrying her the few steps towards their bed.

"The definition of insanity, Baby..."

"We redefined it, Booth."

Tousled curls on white pillows, his smile shining brighter than the moon.

"Yeah, we did."

Then it was nothing but her lips; her lips and her thighs that were parting for him, welcoming him in every way possible. She tasted like everything he knew, everything he had ever wanted to learn, and, as his fingers whispered over her full breasts, it was as if he was caressing them for the first time.

She gasped between kisses, her head rolling around on a will of its own, exposing the silky skin of her neck to his greedy lips.

"Gorgeous... so gorgeous," he murmured, and she reveled in his adoration, taking everything he had to offer with her open heart.

Suddenly, her hands were in his hair, stopping him, and her eyes bore into his.

"Booth... this may never end. We..."

"Infinity," he managed to utter, and, accepting his promise, she locked her arms behind his back, pulling him closer with a content sigh.

"Even though it is impossible, logically speaking, I find that I want to promise it, Booth. Thirty, forty, fifty years."

Too moved to speak, he just nodded, diving in for another deep kiss.

Something in his chest stirred along with his body, and his eyes darkened, as fire burned low in his belly.

Another kind of sensation took over, as their bodies reconnected with each other, as effortlessly as they always had. Thighs fell apart even further, pelvises shifted, moans filled the air, as he entered her, as hardness met snug heat.

"So good..."

Her legs snaked around his back, holding him firmly in place, and, as he started to move within her, her eyes told their story, promising everything she had just said over and over again.

_The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome..._

Sometimes, though, words were just words. Sometimes, bodies could speak more clearly than voices were ever able to.

As her fingernails dug into his shoulders, as she arched her back beneath him, there was nothing insane about their connection. There was just sweetness and love and acceptance. And, as his whole body trembled above her, as she became his center, it was just what it was.

A man and a woman finding each other in the oldest way possible.

Because he was the guy who knew.

And she had known as well.

To be continued...

_I might rename this story, so don't be confused when the next updates comes. And, as always, thanks for reading, I really, really love writing this one. I hope you still wanna read more of their "firsts".  
_


	10. The Gun She Got

_Like I said, I finally did rename this story. I just love "The Past in the Present" so much and I thought it was fitting. Alright, here comes some smut :-)_

X. The Gun She Got

The elevator doors opened with a ping, revealing a slender woman on high heels. She strode the hall with confident steps, the clatter of her shoes matching the rhythm of her swaying hips, and her skirt was a wavy as her hair. More than one agent interrupted his task to watch her.

"Is this...?"

"The famous Dr. Brennan."

Silent whistles could be heard.

"Booth's partner?"

"The one and only. Plus, they have a kid."

"Whoa! A kid?"

"A girl. Sweet little thing."

"I had no idea."

"Man, where have you been the past two years?"

"Wisconsin."

"Ouch, okay."

"She's for sure a sight for sore eyes."

Sneaking looks followed Brennan as she entered her partner's office, sneaking looks registered her puzzlement upon finding it empty.

"Yeah, but she's got all the answers, you know what I mean?"

"Smartypants?"

"You betcha!"

"Poor Booth..."

"No, no, for some reason they have this strange symbiotic thingy going on. Highest solve rate in history of the department."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't mind partnering with her..."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but you don't have the balls."

"Excuse me?"

Brennan approached the two whispering agents, and the younger one's face turned to crimson. His coworker managed to look staid enough.

"Yes?"

"Where's Booth?"

"Taking a break. You might wanna check the gun range."

"Thank you."

Turning around without a word of goodbye, she headed towards the exit, leaving behind nothing but a whiff of her expensive scent and two dazzled agents.

The gun range. How convenient...

-BONES-

The smell of gunpowder lingered in the air, and a strange kind of excitement whispered down her spine, as Brennan entered the firing range. For some reasons, guns had always fascinated her, even though, as a forensic anthropologist, she had seen the damage they could inflict firsthand.

Maybe it was because she had been so defenseless as a child, maybe there were anthropological reasons, maybe she just liked the simple logic of their construction... Once Booth had told her that he was her gun, and even though Brennan had never let it show, his statement had touched her deeply.

He had been so much more than just her gun; he had been the first one to protect her.

And, besides, she wasn't ashamed to admit that there were few things hotter than Booth with his gun. Muscles tensed, jaw set, his whole body as cocked as the weapon itself. Iron and steel... _FBI, freeze! _

Pleasant tingles coiled in her belly, as she recalled the vivid image of her partner in action, but then Brennan squared her shoulders, feeling slightly guilty for her fantasies. After all, sometimes, pulling the trigger meant ending a life... And she didn't want that for him.

Booth had worked so hard to righten his cosmic balance sheet, and his nightmares had only gotten better after he had started sleeping beside her on a daily basis. Now they were rare visitors, and, afterwards, they didn't haunt him anymore like they used to. Brennan had never been a spiritual person, but it seemed as if he had finally found some kind of peace, and she was truly grateful for that.

No, she didn't want him to pull the trigger. But, still, seeing him with his gun...

He was in the shooting stall right at the end, and Brennan granted herself one moment to appreciate the view. His broad back to her, she could admire his perfect structure, could envision the play of muscles underneath his suit.

Taking a deep breath and one more step, she alerted him to her presence.

"Hey."

He turned around, surprise written all over his face, but, soon, joy upon seeing her took over.

"Bones! What are you doing here?"

"Saying hi. I wanted to pick you up for lunch, but this is even better..."

Eyebrows arched up.

"Better?"

Walking around him, she inspected his weapon.

"May I?"

"Sure, be my guest."

Squinting at the target at the far end, she emptied the ammo clip, and he whistled.

"Not bad."

"I'm an excellent shot."

"I know. Still, no guns for squints."

Closing the distance to her, he placed his hands on her hips from behind, as she reloaded the gun. Her skirt felt flimsy under his touch, and he rubbed the material between his rough fingertips; the ones that smelled like gunpowder. Leaning backwards, she fell into his solid frame, absorbing his warmth, his strength.

"Remember the first time we met in a gun range?" she suddenly asked.

A soft groan was her answer, and the grip on her hips tightened.

"Be a cop?"

"So you remember."

"The man who can forget that has yet to be born. You were so..."

His voice trailed off, and she wiggled her hips, pressing herself closer into his touch.

"So?"

"_Hot_."

"I was so wet..."

He choked on his breath.

"What?"

"That day... I was so wet," she repeated calmly, and, somewhere against her lower back, she could feel something hardening.

"Bones! You cannot say things like that in the middle of the day. _In public_."

"Why not?"

"Because... because..."

"You're on lunch break, I'm on lunch break. Technically, we're not working."

He sucked in a breath. And another one.

The hands on her hips started to roam, kneading the flesh underneath her clothes, and her head fell backwards, hitting his shoulder.

"I'm not wearing any underwear," she suddenly whispered, and the rest of his blood rushed southwards.

"Bones!"

"Yes?"

Her husky voice covered his skin with goosebumps, and he took the forgotten gun out of her hands, securing it.

"Come."

"Where are we going?"

Turning around, she watched him with flushed cheeks and parted lips, and, acting on impulse, he caught her between the wall and his body. Instead of backing away, she leaned into his space, moving closer until her breath was tickling his face, like it had back then.

And, just like back then, he couldn't stop his gaze from flickering to her lips.

"You challenged me," he finally murmured, "like nobody else had ever challenged me. You told me how to do my job. As if I was some kind of greenhorn. Maddening woman..."

"Murders are not solved by scientists... That's what you said."

"I was wrong," he admitted honestly.

"Yes, but I was wrong as well. Murders are solved by _us_. The way we are, Booth. Together."

"Still... I kinda wanted to strangle you."

His dark voice hit her hard, and sudden wetness rushed between her legs.

"Strangle me?"

"Yeah. That and... kiss you."

Tilting her head, she looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Kiss me?"

Licking his lips, he zoomed in on her mouth, seeing nothing but pink softness. Perfect curves, perfectly applied lipstick waiting for him to smudge it. Blinking once, twice, he finally took her hand.

"Come."

This time, she did not protest, and he led her to an empty storage room down the hallway. The door closed behind them, leaving them alone in darkness that smelled like dust, that smelled faintly like gunpowder as well. Or, maybe, that was just him.

In the darkness, she could feel his breath on her face once more, hot and challenging, and he was so close, but he didn't lean in to kiss her, to finally kiss her, kiss her like he had already wanted to kiss her that very first time; no, he was just hovering there, taking in her proximity.

"Booth," she whispered, and then she could feel the pad of his thumb running across her lower lip.

"Why do you pick me up for lunch without wearing underwear?" he finally asked, and she swallowed a moan.

"The Diner," she uttered. "So many fantasies."

"The Diner, huh?"

"Yes. But when I heard that you were here... I adapted."

"You adapted?"

"Even more fantasies..."

One hand slid down her side, rumpling the fabric of her skirt until he met the skin of her thigh. Soft, so soft...

"That first time here... you didn't back away from me."

"Why should I?"

There was honest wonder in her voice, and a smile that none of them could see curved up his lips. Of course, why should she? Back away from a guy that was both stronger and taller than she was. A guy who had a gun. Temperance Brennan had always stood her ground, and how could he possibly explain to her how extraordinary that was, how extraordinary she was?

"Yeah, why should you..."

Expecting him to kiss her, she closed her eyes on reflex, but, suddenly, he was gone, and a few unexpected seconds later, his face was buried in the vee of her thighs, nothing but the thin fabric of her skirt separating them.

A sharp gasp left her lips.

Shifting her weight, she tried to give him better access, but one hand was already palming the back of her thigh, hooking her leg over his shoulder. Cool air was tickling her most sensitive spots, but then she could feel the warmth of his breath again, and, this time, it was an entirely different sensation.

She inhaled a shuddered breath, but before her lungs were full of air, she could feel the heat of his tongue between her legs. And again. Her head hit the wall. _Oh God..._

Wet, she was so wet. Aroused, ready, hot – whatever word there was to describe it, she was it, and the very own taste of her clouded his mind with all-consuming longing. Nudging her legs further apart, he buried his face deeper between her thighs; using his lips to suck her into his mouth, using the raspy length of his tongue to rub her.

He could smell her, a heady scent he knew so intimately, but, never before had he smelled the combination of her desire and gunpowder, and, through time and space, some words flew back to him...

_When it comes to a man and his gun,__ a woman is the natural cure. Take Dr. Brennan to this shooting event of yours. You won't fail in front of her._

For a brief moment, it overwhelmed him somehow; the things they had been, the things they'd become, but the moment vanished and he was back with her in an abandoned storage room, his lips between her legs.

A groan left his chest, vibrating against her flesh, hitting her core, and Brennan was suddenly scared that she might fall. Sensing it, knowing her, he shoved his hands under her skirt, using his palms to cup her buttocks, to support her weight, pressing her even deeper into his intimate kiss.

"Booth... _Yes_..."

Her words were burning, and the tip of his tongue dipped into her molten heat.

"You're my gun," she whispered breathlessly, and he grunted, releasing her just long enough to speak.

"You can bet on it, Baby. I'd kill for you."

_I already have..._

"And so would I, so would I..."

_Me too..._

Then his mouth was back, lips and tongue and friction and pressure, licking, sucking and caressing, and, after a while, it all mingled in one sensation, a sensation that was devouring her; or maybe that was just him.

She was panting somewhere above him, and the sound urged him on, drove him even deeper into her, even faster, even harder. It was too much, almost painful, and he hadn't even touched her breasts, hadn't even kissed her lips, hadn't taken her into his arms... had just taken her, _was taking_ her, was licking her and – _oh my God_ – was pushing into her and pushing her; pushing her over the edge of something until she was crying out, quivering around him, contracting with ancient force.

Like a gun that had been fired...

One breath later, she was on two legs again, and he was standing, holding her safely in the circle of his arms, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Fingers tapped her chin, tilting her head, and then, finally, she felt the pressure of his lips so gentle against hers, found her very own taste in his kiss.

Hasty fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, with his zipper, and even though the strained muscles and tendons in her leg cried out in protest, she lifted it again, hooking it around his hip.

With his lips on hers, he found her entrance, pulsating hardness meeting pliant flesh, and he joined them in one long stroke full of slow tenderness, stretching her oh so wonderfully. Her head fell onto his shoulder on a moan, and he held her tight to his body.

"I love you like this," he murmured, and she chuckled.

"Submissive?"

"No... just all soft and cuddly, you know?"

Her laugh turned into a gasp, as he hit just the right spot, tiny aftershocks still coursing through her body; and he could feel it as well, groaning in response. His rhythm lost its sweet finesse for just one moment, and she did it again, squeezing her inner muscles, deliberately this time.

"Bones..."

Turning her head, she sucked the sensitive skin of his neck between her lips, biting softly, the scent of after-shave and him invading her senses.

"Stop being gentle."

With a groan, he raised her leg even higher, slamming into her without restraint. Once. And twice. She tightened around him, pulling him further into her perfect, her freaking perfect heat, and he crushed her against his body, thrusting harder and deeper and even deeper.

Moving her lips just a few inches, she caught his earlobe between her teeth.

"You're my gun," she repeated once more, and it was everything and too much all at once, and, with one last powerful stroke that left her breathless, he came inside of her; came with a soft curse, the warmth of his seed rushing into her.

Then there was darkness...

Lips met as he lowered her leg. Tissues came in handy. Clothes were rearranged. Fresh panties found in her purse. When they left the storage room ten minutes later, the knees of his pants were suspiciously dusty, her skirt slightly wrinkled, but, other than that, nothing betrayed their steamy encounter.

His hand found her smaller one on their way out, clasping it.

"Bones?"

One dazzling smile for him.

"Yes?"

"Best lunch break ever."

To be continued...


End file.
